by Kate Messner
Many of these new passengers spoke different languages. Some had come from villages in Lebanon, another crew member told Patrick. They were going to start new lives in America.
At the edge of the crowd, Ranger saw two children who looked a little older than Luke and Sadie. The girl held a small rag doll with black hair like hers. They seemed as if they might be lost.
Ranger trotted over and nuzzled the boy’s hand. The boy jumped back, but his younger sister knelt and stroked Ranger’s fur.
Soon, Patrick hurried over. “Where’s your family?” he asked the children.
“They are in America,” the boy said in a small voice. “They left us behind until they could find jobs and a place to live.”
“Oh! Are you from one of the villages in Lebanon?” Patrick asked.
The girl nodded. “Our uncle taught us English,” she said. “To be ready for America. Teta learned, too.”
“Teta?” Patrick looked around.
“Our grandmother,” the girl said. “But she is sick right now, so we are going to America on our own. She will come later.” The girl seemed fine with that, but her brother’s face was full of worry.
Patrick understood what it was like to feel alone. “Don’t worry,” he said. “We’ll take good care of you on the Titanic. What are your names?”
“Maryam,” the girl said. “I’m nine and my brother, Hamad, is ten.”
“I’m Patrick, and I’m part of the crew. I also helped build this ship.” Patrick couldn’t help standing a little taller when he said that.
“Can you show us where our cabin is?” Hamad said, holding out their tickets.
“Sure, but it’ll have to be in a little while, when things quiet down,” Patrick said. “You’re on E deck, and I’m assigned to work up here while people board.”
The children waited with Patrick as the other passengers boarded. When everyone was finally settled, Patrick said, “Let’s find your cabin now, all right?”
Patrick and Ranger led the children down to the Titanic’s E deck, two floors above the ship’s engine and boiler rooms. Hamad and Maryam were in a cabin with a family of six people from their village. The man and woman welcomed them.
This crowded room looked nothing like the first-class cabins. It was smaller and simpler, and filled with noise and activity. The mother was unpacking things she’d brought from home. One of the older brothers began playing a hand drum he held under his arm.
“A durbakkah!” Maryam said, and ran over to play with him.
“Have a good voyage,” Patrick said.
“You too!” Maryam called. Hamad waved from his bunk.
Patrick walked down a long hall to the cabin he shared with other crew members.
“Just one more stop before we set off across the Atlantic, dog!” Patrick said, yawning. He climbed into his bunk and went to sleep with Ranger curled up at his feet.
The next day, when the ship docked in Queenstown, peddlers came on board to sell Irish lace and other last-minute goods. Then finally, the Titanic left Ireland with hundreds of seagulls flying in its wake.
“We’re off to New York!” Patrick told Ranger.
Ranger sniffed the salty air and leaned in to let Patrick pet him. He’d been away from Luke and Sadie for so long. Maybe now his work was almost done. How far was it to New York? Ranger didn’t know. But he hoped that when they arrived, he’d finally get to go home.
For the next two days, Ranger followed Patrick around the ship as it surged through the waves. The men from the shipyard who had come along on the maiden voyage helped with whatever needed to be done — assisting first-class passengers, peeling potatoes, delivering messages.
Whenever he had a moment, Patrick went down to the third-class cabins to visit his new friends, Hamad and Maryam. The people from their village welcomed him and Ranger with figs from their trees back home. Most didn’t speak English, but those who did told Patrick how they’d traveled on donkeys to Beirut, sailed from there to Marseille, and then taken a train to Cherbourg to board the big ship. Patrick told them how he had helped build the Titanic back in Belfast, piece by piece, from her propeller to the funnels that towered over the deck.
“But would you like to know a secret?” Patrick said. “Only three of the four funnels are connected to the boilers. The fourth is just for show, to make the ship look more powerful.”
“Isn’t the ship powerful enough?” Hamad asked.
“She certainly is,” Patrick said. “There’s talk that we could set a new speed record to New York!”
* * *
At the end of each night, Patrick went back to the crew’s sleeping quarters. He kept the pouch with his father’s two shiny pennies under his pillow. How proud his father would be if he could see Patrick now. That’s my boy, he’d say. Sailing clear across the wide ocean so you can care for your mother when you get home.
Ranger curled up at the foot of Patrick’s bunk at night and let the hum of the ship lull him to sleep. Even though Ranger didn’t usually like boats, this big one was different — strong and steady and not at all tippy. Still, Ranger dreamed of his dog bed in the mudroom. He dreamed of squirrels and bacon and Luke and Sadie. And when he’d get to go home.
* * *
On Sunday, April 14, Patrick was called to help serve dinner in the first-class dining room. There were oysters and poached salmon, duckling and lamb and beef. Dessert was a spread of pudding, ice cream, and éclairs.
Ranger wasn’t allowed in the dining room, so he climbed the stairs to the top of the ship and wandered the boat deck while Patrick was busy with dinner. One of the little yappy dogs always barked at Ranger, but most of the passengers were happy to see him. The ladies strolling on deck would pause and bend down to pat his head.
“Maryam!” someone shouted, just as Ranger was getting his neck scratched by a lady in a fluffy black hat.
Ranger turned and saw Hamad hurrying along the deck with a little rag doll.
“Maryam!” Hamad called, looking around. When he saw Ranger, he ran to him and dropped to his knees. “I can’t find my sister!” he said.
Find? Ranger’s ears perked up. He sniffed the little doll in Hamad’s hands. It smelled of the third-class cabins — like smoke and spices. But there was another smell, too. The Maryam girl.
“She’s wandered off. Can you help me find her?” the boy asked.
Find! Ranger knew that command from his search-and-rescue training. He’d always been able to find Luke in their practice sessions. He’d found him hiding in the woods on hot summer days and buried in the snow on winter mornings. He’d practiced finding Luke in wide-open meadows and on busy city blocks. But he’d never found anyone on a ship before.
Ranger sniffed the air. There were lots of people smells here. First-class men and women were rushing back to their cabins. They smelled of soap and perfume and the greasy meat they’d eaten for supper. Another smell hung over the boat deck, too. Ranger tipped his nose to the dark sky and sniffed the brisk, icy air. It smelled cold and fishy and sharp. But there was no Maryam smell.
Ranger led Hamad to the back of the boat and looked down to the deck below, where third-class passengers could walk in the open air at the boat’s stern.
It was late, and the sky was dark. The night air was too cold for stargazing. All the passengers had gone to their cabins. The deck was empty.
“She’s not here. I’m going to find help,” Hamad said as he turned and walked away.
Just as Ranger was about to follow him, he caught a scent on the wind. But then it was gone.
Ranger walked all along the railing. He kept sniffing the cold air, searching for the Maryam smell.
Finally … there!
Ranger looked down at the empty deck.
There were no people — only a big crane that the crew used to move baggage sometimes. Earlier, some of the boys from third class had been climbing it, shimmying out on its long arm and then dropping down to the deck. They’d raced around, playing and clim
bing until their fathers made them stop.
But the boys were gone now. And Maryam was nowhere to be found. Every time Ranger caught her scent, it disappeared again. The smell was too scattered for him to follow. Where was she?
Ranger sniffed the air and barked. Then he heard a high, scared voice.
“Help! Please! I’m up here!”
Ranger looked down. Maryam had climbed out almost to the tip of the crane’s arm. She was hugging the metal and looked like she’d been there awhile. Her hands were chapped and raw in the cold ocean air. Her face was streaked with tears.
“I’m stuck!” Maryam shouted. She clung to the crane with one arm and tugged at her skirt with the other. The fabric was caught in the machinery.
Ranger barked. He couldn’t help Maryam. He didn’t know how to get down to the deck below. There were no stairs. Even if he jumped, he couldn’t climb the big machine and get her down. But he could bring someone who would.
Ranger took off running across the deck. He bounded down three flights of stairs, to the saloon deck, where Patrick had been working.
The first-class passengers had all gone to bed, but a few stewards remained, cleaning up dessert dishes and straightening chairs.
There! Ranger saw Patrick collecting teacups on a big tray. He ran up and barked.
Patrick jumped and almost dropped the tray. The cups and saucers rattled and clinked together. “What are you doing, dog?” Patrick’s voice sounded cross. He put the tray down and reached for Ranger’s collar. Ranger darted away from him.
Patrick followed him. Ranger barked and took a few steps down the hallway. He ran back to Patrick and jumped up on him. Then he ran down the hallway again.
“What is it, dog?” Patrick asked. “What’s wrong?” He followed Ranger through the reception area and up the grand staircase.
Ranger led Patrick to the back of the ship. This time, he caught Maryam’s scent in a hallway and followed it up to the deck where he’d seen her earlier. As soon as they stepped out into the cold night air, Ranger heard her crying. He barked and pawed at Patrick’s leg.
Patrick looked way up at the arm of the crane. “Maryam!” he shouted. He took off his jacket and threw it on the deck. Then he hoisted himself onto the base of the crane and began to climb out its long arm.
Patrick’s heart pounded. He’d been terrified of heights ever since his father’s fall at the shipyard. He’d always found reasons to work on the lower riveting and painting sites instead. But this was different.
“Hold on, Maryam! I’m coming!” Patrick called. He clung to the cold metal with his knees and reached for the next support. His hands were already numb from the cold, but he kept climbing.
The crane’s arm wobbled every time Patrick moved. He forced himself not to look down. He kept his eyes on Maryam until, finally, he reached her and grabbed her icy hand.
“My dress!” she cried, looking down. Her skirt was caught between two pieces of metal, as if the big machine had taken a bite of it to hold her there.
“Hold on tight again. Just for a moment.” Patrick let go of Maryam’s hand. He wrapped his legs and one arm around the metal support and reached down as far as he could stretch. Finally, he felt the rough fabric in his hand. He gathered a handful and tugged. But the crane held on.
Patrick took a deep breath. He held the fabric tight and yanked as hard as he could. Finally, the skirt pulled free.
“There!” Patrick said. “Now let’s climb down together.” He shimmied backward down the crane’s arm, stopping every few inches to guide Maryam’s boot to the next foothold. When he made it to the base of the crane, he jumped down and reached up with both arms. Maryam leaned into them. He lifted her down onto the deck just as Hamad raced up the stairs with a man from their village.
“There you are!” Hamad said. He looked as if he couldn’t decide whether to hug his sister or throw her overboard. “What were you doing?”
Maryam started to cry again. “I wanted to climb up like the boys did,” she said. “I wanted to see onto the other deck.” Ranger nuzzled Maryam’s hand until she knelt to pet him. That quieted her down.
Patrick and Ranger walked Hamad and Maryam back to the third-class cabins. It was nearly 11:30, and most of the families had gone to sleep. The music had stopped, and the instruments were all put away.
“Thank you,” Hamad told Patrick.
“Thank him.” Patrick nodded down at Ranger and gave him a scratch behind his ear. “He’s the one who came to get me.”
Hamad knelt and gave Ranger a tight hug. Then he stood and said good night to Patrick.
“Sleep well.” As Patrick and Ranger turned to leave, the floor shuddered under their feet. A terrible scraping, crunching noise rattled the air. A grinding, grating sound, like a boat running up on rocks at the beach. Then doors opening and closing. And rushing, thumping footsteps.
“What is happening?” Hamad asked Patrick. “Did we bump something?”
“I’m not sure,” Patrick said, but he had a terrible feeling. He opened the door and looked up and down the hallway. There didn’t seem to be any warnings. “I’ll go see, but I’m sure it’s nothing. Try to get some sleep.”
There were more footsteps rushing down the hallway above them. Then it was quiet again.
Too quiet. The engines had stopped.
Patrick and Ranger hurried up to the deck. Everyone was talking at once.
“Is everything all right?”
“Why have we stopped?”
“Don’t suppose it’s anything much. Perhaps something to do with the machinery?”
“It’s fine,” one of the crewmen told a group of passengers. “You can go back to bed.”
Some people returned to their cabins. Others huddled in their nightgowns on the deck.
“It was an iceberg, I tell you,” someone said. “Saw the huge white mass myself when I looked out my porthole. Like a mountain on the sea.”
“Come on, dog,” Patrick said, hurrying toward the bow of the ship. “Let’s see what we can learn.”
Ranger followed Patrick, but the fur on his neck prickled. The air smelled icy and fishy and dangerous. Then Ranger felt something cold under his paw. He barked and stepped back.
Patrick bent down, picked up a chunk of ice, and sucked in his breath. “We must have hit ice,” he whispered. He looked out into the darkness and tried to stay calm. This ship was designed to sail through icy waters, he reminded himself.
Sure enough, the engines chugged to life, and the ship started moving.
Patrick let out a whoosh of breath. “See, dog?” he said. “Everything is fine.” Patrick had seen the Titanic’s plans himself, back at the shipyard. He’d counted the watertight compartments that would keep the great ship from sinking, no matter what. These were separate rooms on the lower levels of the ship, with special doors that could close in an emergency. That way, if water got into the ship’s hull, it would be kept to one small area. It could never flood the entire ship.
So even though the Titanic had hit an iceberg, they would be fine. This might slow them down a bit, that was all.
Then the engines stopped again.
Two firemen came rushing up the steps. “She’s flooding!” one of them shouted. “The watertight doors are closed, but who knows if it’ll be enough. We had to dive under the door between boiler rooms five and six as it was closing. Made it just in time!”
“Go wake the first-class passengers,” an officer told Patrick. “Get them up to the boat deck in their life jackets. Tell them it’s just a precaution. We don’t want to alarm them.”
Patrick hesitated. “Is there cause for alarm?”
The officer pointed down the stairs. “Follow the order you’ve been given.”
Patrick and Ranger hurried downstairs. They rushed up and down the first-class hallways. Ranger barked. Patrick pounded on cabin doors to wake people up. He helped them into their life jackets and sent them up to the deck.
Some people argued. “It’s
so dreadfully frigid out,” one woman said.
“Is the ship actually taking on water?” one man asked Patrick. “Have you seen it for yourself?” He looked around his warm, dry cabin.
“No, sir,” Patrick said. “But I’ve been told that everyone must head up to the boat deck now.”
The man sighed. He pulled a coat on over his nightclothes and followed Patrick and Ranger down the hall and up the stairs.
The boat deck was getting crowded, but no one seemed very worried. Their only complaint was the temperature of the air. Was it really necessary to be out in this awful cold?
When Patrick finished waking the first-class passengers, he ran downstairs to see the damage for himself. It would be on the lower levels of the ship, near the mail room and one of the boiler rooms. Near Hamad and Maryam’s cabin.
Ranger followed Patrick. With every flight of stairs they descended, the air smelled more dangerous. Like wet metal and seawater and ice.
When Patrick turned a corner to go down to the mail room, he stopped in his tracks. Seawater had already climbed halfway up the staircase. The baggage area, mail room, and boiler rooms were all flooded.
Ranger saw the water, too, but he started down the stairs.
“No!” Patrick called. “Here, dog. We can’t go down there. We have to go up to the deck.”
But mixed in with the smell of seawater, soggy paper, and wet coal, Ranger had caught another scent. A person smell. He continued down the stairs until the water lifted him off his paws and he was paddling through the mail room.
“Dog! No!” Patrick shouted. He took another step down. Frigid water soaked his boots. “Come back!” he called to Ranger.
Ranger barked and kept paddling. The person smell was getting stronger.
There!
A young steward clung to a pipe in the corner of the room. Ranger barked at him.
“Get help, dog!” the young man shouted. He hadn’t seen Patrick.
But it was Patrick who answered. “I’m here! It’s all right. Let go and come to the stairs.”