Harold Lowe has managed to claw his way up the career ladder of the British merchant marines, rising from a ship's boy to a master mariner with one of the world's elite passenger lines. Along the way, he's learned to master not only his craft, but...
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As she raced up Ocean Road toward the White Star berths, her ship - the one that would carry her to her new life in America - loomed large and heavy over the town. Of course, Titanic had been in dock for the past few days, and Corrine, along with most of the city's residents, had already been down to see her and marvel at her immense size, her four funnels and newly-polished decks shining brightly in the sun, and the scores of crewmembers scrambling about like ants at the very top of the ship, preparing her for the maiden voyage. She was touted as the largest moving man-made object in the world, and she certainly lived up to her name. Even the skyscrapers in New York couldn't be that tall and imposing, Corrine thought in wonder, struck motionless once again by the sheer magnitude and presence of the monstrous vessel.
But she couldn't afford to stand there and gawk for long. She had to pass through the inspection - and quickly - if she wanted to make the noon sailing. She searched fruitlessly for the health officials, trying in vain to see above the tops of ladies' hats and men's bowlers, until she tugged on a passing sailor's arm.
"I need to find the doctors," she blurted, conscious of the time quickly ticking away. "I'm a passenger on Titanic-"
"That way," he pointed, and continued on his way, obviously in a hurry himself.
She presented herself for inspection as the doctors were packing up their things and preparing to board at the crew's entrance. At her frantic entreaties, a kindly older man obliged, giving her a cursory exam. "You're from Southampton," he said, checking her ticket and handing her an inspection card, "so I'm sure you're fine. Proceed to the E-deck gangway, please."
She stuffed both pieces of paper back into her pocket, and was about to ask which way to the gangway - but he had already walked away.
"Bloody hell," she whispered under her breath, trying out one of Mr. Lowe's expletives - and blushing furiously afterward. She had to find that gangway, and quickly. She darted one way, then another, dodging well-wishers and spectators alike as she frantically searched. If only she knew which direction to go... She counted decks, craning her neck to see to the top, in the desperate hope that she could figure out which one was E deck. She happened to glance over to her right - and saw modestly-dressed passengers walking quickly up a sloping gangway near the stern of the ship, about a hundred feet away. That had to be it! She breathed a sign of relief that it was so close, and began sprinting as fast as her feet - and the crowds - allowed, praying that she wouldn't be too late.
Breathless, she finally reached the bottom of the gangway. A man in an officer's uniform stood at the open door leading from the wooden walkway to the ship. She watched him turn as a second officer poked his head around the corner and said, "That'll do; lower the gangway and secure the door-"
"Wait!" she shouted at the top of her lungs.
They both turned to stare at her. The first thing her mind registered, with disappointment, was that neither one was Mr. Lowe. One was slim, dark, and reserved, and the other was younger and taller, with an open, friendly face.
