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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They had emerged into a scene from hell.
The lifeboats that Corrine had seen sitting peacefully in their davits the other day had been stripped and swung out level with the edge of the boat deck. Ropes were lying uncoiled all over the deck, and crewmembers swarmed about the boats, readying them for lowering and shouting orders to one another. Groups of passengers in lifebelts, some with children, rushed to and fro, or waited near the lifeboats. All looked anxious; by now the tilt of the deck was obvious, and she saw fear and trepidation in many faces. Some ladies stood sobbing, clinging to husbands or brothers as sailors and stewards stepped over the lines and attempted to steer them toward the boats. Other women had to be forcibly pulled from their male companions, and one was lifted bodily away and carried toward a boat, screaming for her husband at the top of her lungs as he waved cheerily at her. But Corrine saw his lip quivering as he turned away, and knew he was putting on a brave front for her sake; his own fate was likely already sealed.
Suddenly, another rocket whooshed overhead, exploding in a deafening bang and raining showers of sparks gently down onto the cold sea. Her friends and companions cried out in alarm. Corrine had held her ears during the detonation, and as she slowly lowered them, she noticed for the first time the cheerful, upbeat strains of ragtime music floating over the bedlam.
The little group stood there in shock, taking it all in. They had seen the confusion and disorder below, but had not anticipated the eerie, reeling madness above. Worse, from her vantage point near the aftmost edge of the deck, which was significantly elevated above the bow, she could see that many davits were already empty.
"Right." She turned to her band of companions as the last person - Danny - emerged from the ladder. "Most of the boats have left already. You'll have to hurry if you want to be in one. Don't waste time, or it'll be too late," she warned ominously.
The Finnish girls moved off at once, but her friends lingered by her side. "Come with us!" Katie begged, pulling at her hand.
Corrine grabbed Katie by her upper arms and spoke urgently. "No. Listen to me. You need to find a boat. I need to find Harry. There's not much time. Go. Hurry!" She pushed Katie and Kate toward the nearest boat and melted back into the crowd, toward the middle of the ship.
Frantic, she turned this way and that, unsure of where to start. Did the officers have assigned boats? Should she ask someone? Her confusion rendered her paralyzed for a moment, and she froze with indecision. People shoved past her, but she barely registered the movement.
She needed to find another officer - surely he would know where Harry was. Oh, where was Mr. Lightoller when she really needed him?! She scanned the deck. To her immense relief, she noticed a sad-eyed officer standing not too far away, loading the last boat on the starboard side.
Pushing aside the crowd blocking her way, she approached him. "Sir!" she called. "Sir, I-"
He grabbed her arm firmly and steered her toward the boat he was loading. "Yes, miss, you should get in this one; I assure you it is perfectly safe." He made to pass her over the edge to a waiting sailor.
