Disaster on the Titanic

by Kate Messner

  “I can’t swim!” the man shouted.

  “It’s not that deep!” Patrick called. “Come on!”

  But the man shook his head. His knuckles were white from gripping the pipe so tightly.

  “Hold on, then. I’m coming!” Patrick took a deep breath and braced himself for the shock. Then he plunged into the icy flood.

  The frigid water stole Patrick’s breath away. It swallowed him up, all the way to his neck, and lapped at his chin. Patrick kept his head up. He pushed through the water, half swimming and half running to the corner of the mail room. He took hold of the young steward’s arm. “Let go of the pipe now!” Patrick said. “The water’s not over your head. I’ll make sure you don’t fall.”

  The man’s eyes were wide with fear. His hands stayed clenched around the pipe. Ranger swam to him and used his nose to give the man’s cheek a wet nudge. Finally, the man took a deep breath. He let go of the pipe and let Patrick guide him to the steps.

  Ranger walked behind them, nudging the young man every time he looked back at the flood. They needed to get upstairs, away from this dangerous, rising water!

  When they’d climbed up to the E deck, Patrick heard voices in the hallway. One of them sounded like Mr. Andrews from the shipyard. Patrick stopped and put a finger to his lips. The other young man nodded silently. They waited in the stairway as two men walked by.

  “Well, three have gone already, Captain,” one of the men said. “If six of the watertight compartments flood, she can’t stay afloat.”

  The men’s footsteps paused.

  “Are you certain?” the other man asked.

  “The weight of the seawater will sink the bow, and the rest of the ship will follow,” the first man said.

  “How long do we have?”

  “Perhaps two hours.”

  Patrick’s stomach turned to stone. Two hours? Two hours before the greatest ship in the world would sink?

  He turned to the young steward, who stood shivering in his wet clothes. His mouth hung open. He stared at Patrick. “Two hours, mate,” the man whispered.

  Patrick nodded. He swallowed hard. “Let’s get to work.”

  They hurried up to the boat deck, where the Titanic’s lifeboats were tied. More passengers had come up from their cabins. Some dragged soggy suitcases behind them. Soon, the musicians arrived with their instruments. The band tuned up and began playing “Alexander’s Ragtime Band.” Passengers stood in groups, listening, talking quietly, and laughing.

  “All hands up!” someone shouted. “Get the lifeboats ready!”

  The crewmen on deck sprung into action, but the passengers barely looked up from their conversations. Patrick couldn’t stop staring. Had anyone told them the ship was going to sink? He wondered if the crew was working too hard to keep people calm. Would they even be willing to get in the lifeboats?

  “Come on, mate!” Another crewman clapped Patrick on the shoulder. “Help ready the boats!”

  Patrick and Ranger followed the man to the starboard side of the ship. Patrick began pulling the covers from the lifeboats.

  “Release the grips on that one!” another man called. Patrick could barely hear him over the sound of steam pouring from the ship’s funnels. “Release the grips!” the man shouted. Patrick did that and then began preparing ropes so the boat could be lowered. Other crew members prepared the davits, the cranes that would lower full lifeboats into the sea.

  “The captain has given the order to swing out the boats!” someone called. “Bring up the passengers with life preservers on. Women and children first!”

  Patrick looked at the crowd on the deck. There were twenty lifeboats in all. Could it possibly be enough for two thousand passengers and crew members?

  There was no time to do the math. Patrick turned a crank to position lifeboat number seven alongside the ship. It swung on its ropes, and his heart crept up into his throat. He couldn’t imagine climbing into such a little boat as it tipped back and forth, seventy feet above the ocean.

  Patrick pushed the thought away. With so many passengers waiting, it would be a long time before it was his turn to board a lifeboat anyway. He held the boat steady as two of the passengers — a woman and her mother — climbed aboard.

  One by one, Patrick helped twenty-eight people board lifeboat seven before it launched. There’d been room for more, but other passengers were staying back. They still didn’t believe the ship might sink.

  Patrick understood. It seemed impossible. But he remembered hearing Mr. Andrews in the E-deck hallway. “Maybe two hours …”

  How long ago had that been? And how much time was left?

  “Lower away!” an officer shouted toward lifeboat five.

  If Mr. Andrews was right, there was far too much work to be done in the minutes they had left before the ship sank. The crew was doing all they could to prepare lifeboats and load passengers. Mr. Andrews himself hurried around the deck, urging people to get into the boats.

  They tried to board women and children first, but every time the crew turned away, men leaped into the boats. Women wailed for their husbands left behind on deck. Some threatened to get out of the boats if the men weren’t allowed to join them. Eventually, the officer in charge let some men board lifeboat five as well.

  Every time Patrick finished a job, there was another to be done. He was removing the sail and mast from a lifeboat to make room for more passengers when a scream came from lifeboat five, halfway down the side of the ship.

  The crew had lowered one side faster than the other. The tilted boat threatened to dump all of its passengers into the freezing ocean. Patrick dropped the mast on the deck and rushed to help. Quickly, he and the other crewmen raised lifeboat five back to the boat deck until it was level again. More men scrambled aboard.

  Patrick’s heart thudded. He tried to catch his breath. He hadn’t eaten supper, and his knees threatened to give out under him. He reached out for the railing to steady himself, but sank to his knees. Ranger came up to nuzzle his shoulder.

  Patrick sat down and stroked Ranger’s fur, but it didn’t calm his racing heart. His empty stomach twisted. The ship felt as if it might be tilting forward. Were they already starting to go down?

  Ranger sniffed the night air. It still smelled of seawater and ice, but there were new smells, too. So many people, sweating under their thick coats. Danger and fear. And … bread?

  Ranger left Patrick and sniffed along the railing. Yes … bread.

  “What’d you find there, dog?” Patrick followed Ranger and picked up a sack from the deck. It was stuffed with loaves of bread. He looked around. There was more bread scattered near the lifeboats. The crew must have meant to load it on board. Patrick pulled a loaf from the sack. He tore off a hunk of bread and took a huge bite. He ripped off a second piece and gave it to Ranger. Then he leaned against the railing and stared up at the night sky.

  A streak of light like a shooting star shot up from the ship. A shower of white sparks exploded over the Titanic. It lit up the faces of the passengers waiting on the deck. Patrick watched as their expressions changed from surprise to awe … to fear. Somehow, the emergency rocket launch had made them understand what they wouldn’t listen to before. They were in danger. It was time to leave the ship.

  Patrick scrambled to his feet and hurried to prepare the next lifeboat. Ranger couldn’t help Patrick with his work, so he wandered among the passengers. Even in the chaos and fear, people reached down to stroke his damp fur or scratch his neck. Ranger stayed longest with the people whose hands were trembling the most.

  He was getting a good ear scratch from a man in a top hat when a cry went up from the deck below. Ranger trotted to the rail to see what was happening. A mob of passengers crowded behind a gate that led up to the boat deck. They were arguing and surging forward. On the other side, a steward was pushing them back.

  An officer shot a gun into the air. “Women and children only!” he shouted.

  The steward reached over the gate to li
ft a little girl, but she pushed him away.

  “No! I won’t go!” she said. Ranger’s ears perked up.

  It was Maryam!

  The steward said something. He caught the girl’s hand and yanked her forward. Then he grabbed her under her arms and dragged her over the gate.

  “No!” She pounded his shoulders and kicked at him. “Not without my brother!”

  Ranger ran to find Patrick. He weaved through a crowd of third-class passengers who had made their way up to the boat deck. He squeezed between first-class men and women in their coats and hats. Another rocket exploded over the ship.

  Finally, Ranger found Patrick helping a young woman into her life jacket. He ran to him, barking, but Patrick didn’t hear.

  Ranger barked louder. Suddenly, the noise from the ship’s great funnels quieted. Passengers stared up at them, startled by the silence.

  Ranger barked again. This time, Patrick looked over. Ranger pawed at his leg. Then he ran toward the gate where the children were.

  “Hold on, dog!” Patrick was turning a crank, helping to lower another lifeboat.

  As Patrick worked, he scanned the crowd. He hadn’t seen Maryam or Hamad or anyone from their village yet. But maybe they were on the starboard side of the ship. Perhaps they’d already been lowered to safety. They were children, after all. Someone would be looking out for them now.

  As soon as lifeboat three splashed into the water, Ranger was at Patrick’s side, jumping up on him with both legs, running back and forth. Finally, Patrick followed Ranger through the crowd to the gate.

  “I said no!” Maryam was still struggling with the frustrated crewman who was trying to move her toward the lifeboats. When she spotted Patrick, she shouted, “Tell him to let me go!”

  Patrick hurried over. “What’s this about?”

  “I’ve been ordered to get the third-class women and children into boats,” the steward said, still clutching Maryam’s arm.

  “But he won’t let Hamad come!” Maryam’s eyes shined with angry tears.

  Patrick looked at the steward. “He’s a boy.”

  “Almost a man,” the steward said.

  “I’m ten years old!” Hamad shouted.

  The steward turned to Patrick and shook his head. “He looks older. They won’t let him in the boats. If I send him up, he’s likely to get shot.”

  Patrick swallowed hard. He’d seen crew members firing pistols in the air, threatening men who tried to force their way onto boats. Would they shoot a child?

  Before Patrick could argue any more, there was shouting on the deck. Four men were trying to force their way to the lifeboats.

  The steward turned toward the commotion. As soon as he looked away, Hamad scrambled over the gate and raced to his sister’s side.

  She grabbed his hand and looked up at Patrick. “Now you can take us to the lifeboat!”

  Patrick’s stomach twisted. What would he do if Hamad wasn’t allowed on a lifeboat? The crew members on the port deck were getting more short-tempered by the minute. Patrick understood. It was taking too long to move the passengers. Lifeboats were being lowered half-full. The emergency staircase that led to the C deck was already flooding. The lights that lit the steps glowed an eerie green under the seawater. They were running out of time.

  But Hamad didn’t wait for Patrick. He was already leading his sister through the crowd. Patrick and Ranger followed them to the deck.

  When they arrived, a family was standing near lifeboat fourteen. The little girl was wrapped in a White Star Line blanket. Her mother wore a man’s overcoat.

  “Stay back!” an officer shouted to a man who was creeping forward.

  “Let’s go!” A steward took the girl from her parents and guided her to the lifeboat. “Now you, too!” he shouted to her mother. “Take a seat in the boat.”

  “Go, Lottie!” her husband shouted as the sailors pulled her toward the boat. “Go and be brave! I’ll get a seat in another boat.”

  Patrick watched him step back into a crowd of other men. The man’s grim face made it clear he knew the truth. There wouldn’t be enough boats for everyone.

  Patrick was about to ask one of the officers about Hamad when a teenaged boy jumped into the lifeboat beside the woman and her daughter. The women in the boat tried to help him, hiding him under their skirts.

  One of the officers pointed a gun at the boy. “I’ll give you ten seconds to get back onto that ship!”

  The boy climbed back over the rail and collapsed onto the deck. Patrick turned away. He tried to tune out the sound of the boy’s crying. But Maryam had seen what happened. She stared at the boy, and her eyes filled with tears.

  Ranger licked Maryam’s hand, but it didn’t help. He didn’t know what could make things better with everyone so upset. Hamad wasn’t crying, but his eyes were big and scared. Ranger sat down beside him and leaned into him.

  Maryam wiped her tears with her sleeve, just as a first-class lady arrived to board a lifeboat. She wore a long wool coat over her gown and a pile of hats on her head. Many people on deck wore layers of clothing, trying to save what they could from the flooding ship.

  Maryam stared at that pile of hats. Then she broke away from Patrick and Hamad and raced to the woman’s side.

  “Maryam!” Patrick called. She was going to get herself in trouble again. “Come back!”

  Maryam ignored him. She tugged on the woman’s sleeve and said something. The woman looked surprised. Maryam pointed at Hamad, and the woman looked up. Her face softened. She nodded, took off one of her hats, and gave it to Maryam.

  Maryam raced back to Hamad and held out the hat. “Hurry! Put this on your head!”

  “What?” Hamad stared at the hat. It had a wide brim, with flowers and a bow piled on top.

  “They won’t let boys on the lifeboat,” Maryam whispered. “So you will have to be a girl instead.” With that, she shoved the hat onto his head.

  Hamad began to protest. “I’m not wearing —” But Patrick cut him off.

  “She’s right,” he said. “You can pass for a girl.” He grabbed a blanket someone had left on the deck. He wrapped it around Hamad’s shoulders and pulled the brim of the hat lower to hide his face. Patrick stepped back to look at Hamad.

  Then he leaned close to the children and whispered, “Don’t say another word now. This may be your only chance to get off the ship.”

  Lifeboat fourteen had already been lowered to the A deck. Patrick grabbed Hamad’s and Maryam’s hands and headed for the next boat. Crew members hurried past, shouting to one another.

  “We need help on the boat deck!”

  “Any more women down there?”

  Patrick peered down to the deck below and caught a glimpse of Mr. Andrews. In the dim light, he and another man were tossing steamer chairs over the railing into the sea. Patrick frowned. What was the point? Getting rid of weight on the sinking ship wasn’t going to keep it afloat. But then Patrick saw one of the chairs bobbing in the waves. A man who’d already fallen or jumped from the Titanic was swimming desperately toward it. Mr. Andrews wasn’t throwing chairs overboard to get rid of weight on the ship; he was throwing them so people in the water could use them as rafts.

  Patrick felt a chill that had nothing to do with the icy air. He looked around the ship, at the crowds of people and the few remaining lifeboats. There weren’t even close to enough.

  Patrick knew most crew members would be the last to leave. What would he do when the ship finally sank beneath the waves? Would he cling to the railing until the last possible second? Or would it be better to jump clear of the ship and hope to swim to a lifeboat or floating chair? Patrick shivered again. He couldn’t imagine choosing that frigid black water.

  “Will they let Hamad go in a boat now?” Maryam whispered up at Patrick.

  “Yes,” Patrick said, but he had no idea if the disguise would work. He pushed all of the cold-water thoughts from his mind and pulled the children toward the next boat. Ranger stayed close as the
y stepped up to the railing.

  “I brought up two young sisters from third class,” Patrick told the officer loading the boat.

  “Have you, then?” the officer said. His eyes settled on Maryam, then drifted to Hamad. “Into the boat you go.” The officer held a hand out to the children and helped them into the lifeboat. Two dozen passengers were already crowded into the little boat. A woman from Maryam and Hamad’s village spotted them and reached up with her arms held out. Patrick prayed that she wouldn’t call Hamad’s name.

  She didn’t. She simply took Maryam’s hand and helped her settle on the bench. Hamad sat by his sister and stared up at Patrick. Maryam lifted her hand in a quiet wave.

  “Be safe!” Patrick called. “I’ll …” He swallowed hard. “I’ll see you when we get to New York.” The last word stuck in his throat. He stepped back from the railing, wishing he could have said a better good-bye. There would be no grand arrival in New York, he understood now. Below in the waves, another lifeboat was pulling away. Soon, the last boats would follow, and there would be no hope for those who remained. Patrick would go down with the ship he’d helped to build.

  “Lower aft!” an officer shouted as the crew maneuvered lifeboat fifteen down the side of the ship. “Lower stern! Now together!”

  “Come on!” An officer clapped Patrick on the shoulder. “We’ve got a few to launch yet.”

  Patrick followed the officer and helped to load lifeboat two. With every minute that passed, the Titanic seemed to lurch a bit more. There were more shouts. More cries. More panic.

  And there were still so many people on the ship. The air crackled with danger. Ranger smelled fear on every passenger’s breath. How could he possibly help them all?

  Ranger stood close to the people who seemed most upset. A man who’d said good-bye to his wife and stood quietly weeping on the deck. A boy who was wailing because he hadn’t been allowed to join his mother on the last boat. Ranger nuzzled the boy’s hand and leaned against him. When you couldn’t fix a problem, you could at least let a person know you were there.