Spirit of the Titanic by Nicola Pierce

freezing temperatures outside. Reaching into his bag, he pulled out a half-bottle of whisky.
    â€œHello, my lovely.”
    I couldn’t believe it.
    Stretching himself out on his narrow bed, he casually bunched up his pillow into the back of his neck so that he could drink in a horizontal position. Humming his favourite song about the seaside, he slowly unscrewed the top of the bottle and took a mouthful of the brown liquid.
    He was the picture of a contented man. “Glorious, just glorious! Exactly what the doctor ordered, at a time like this.”
    As he took a second mouthful, there was a burst of shouting in the distance. He barely raised an eyebrow and merely took a third sip. On his fifth sip he began a conversation: “Well, I don’t know what’s to become of us but I tell you one thing for nothing; I’m not going to panic. Nope, it’s all going to work out just fine. Everything always does in the end.”
    He took another large mouthful. I sat at the end of his bed, pretending he was talking to me.
    â€œThe thing is, as Nana Joughin — may God rest her soul — always said, the less worrying a person does allows their problems to fix themselves naturally, in their own good time.”
    With that he put the top back on the bottle and laid it gently beside him, flattening out his pillow to allow himself to recline perfectly.
    â€œAh, Nana, you were the finest of women. I hope you’re having a fine old time up there, wrestling with Saint Peter and joking with the Good Lord himself. God bless you. Sure, I might be seeing you soon.”
    Then, bellowing out a contented yawn, he shut his eyes and floated off to sleep.

Chapter Eight
    L eaving the baker to his dreams, I sped down to third class. Just as I suspected, Jim, Isobel, and the children were still fast asleep. I couldn’t help smiling, in spite of everything, when I heard baby Sarah snoring louder than her father. The scene was the same from cabin to cabin. Hundreds below deck had no idea that anything was amiss. After all, there were so many doors to be knocked on, starting with the wealthiest. It was really frustrating, even if I could have caused some commotion by sending something crashing to the ground, to wake up them up, there was absolutely nothing in the tiny cabin aside from the beds and wash basin, and they were all firmly nailed into place. I tried blowing on Jim’s face, but he merely scratched his nose as he slept. There was nothing for it but to trust that the efficient and hard-working staff would be along shortly to get everybody up. With some reluctance I took a last look at the contented family, promising them that I’d be back as soon as I could.
    I went back up on deck to scan the black sea in the hope of spying an approaching ship. Maybe Charles was right, that it would all work out in the end. I hadn’t visited the Marconi office in a while. For all I knew they could have contacted someone who could help us in time. However, there was nothing on the horizon — nothing around Titanic except cold water, ice, and more ice.
    Frederick Fleet and his fellow lookout Reggie looked stunned by all the activity on deck. I saw them shyly approach Officer Murdoch and present themselves for duty. Reggie was sent one way, Frederick was sent another.
    â€œOkay, Fleet, go over and make yourself useful to Officer Lightoller.”
    Frederick made his way to the other side of the deck, keeping his eyes down the whole time. It was as if he was somehow scared of the passengers around him. In fact, there wasn’t a sadder face to be seen. I watched him take a deep breath as he stepped up to the broad figure of Second Officer Lightoller, and I felt prompted to stand beside him for he seemed in dire need of a friend.
    Officer Lightoller was a tough-looking sailor, with square shoulders and a wide-legged stance. I wouldn’t have been at all surprised to find he was some sort of boxing champion.