The second man holds the post of one of the bunk beds, peering at me through hooded eyes. Under his seaman’s cap, his hair hangs oily and black around his round face, which is creased with discontent.

One is like water, and the other like smoke. They’re probably in their fifties, though they look more like they’re in their sixties.

Favoring his left foot, the grumpy man limps forward, blocking the bright light from the porthole as well as the cool ocean breeze. A top incisor tooth swings out a tad too far, like a single fang, and the knees of his sea slops are worn and patched. “Jamie never said he had a sister.”

I cough in disbelief. “Well, he does. We’re twins.”

The sound of people cheering from the docks below mimics the pounding of my own heart. So these men do know Jamie. I am close.

Tao tugs at his whale-blue kerchief, embroidered with the letters ASC. Atlantic Steam Company. Grumpy also wears the kerchief.

I lift my veil, and Tao’s honest face takes on the look of one sighting a rare bird. He points with a finger that is missing its tip, and I try not to stare. “Same narrow ears as Jamie.”

“Narrow ears doesn’t mean they are related.” Grumpy bats Tao’s shoulder. “Why is she here? She probably wants money. Women always want money.”

“She is wearing nice clothes. Why would she need money?”

“To buy more nice clothes, of course! She looks shifty. Women cannot be trusted.” Grumpy pushes Tao aside and grabs the doorknob. A whiff of tobacco makes me wince.

“But I have traveled a long way to see him. Please, is he on this boat? Where can I find him?”

“He is not here.” Grumpy closes the door in my face.

“You almost hit her, Fong,” Tao protests. “Negative energy will return to you.”

The lock snickers closed.

A heavy stone of dread sinks in me. “He is not here here, or he is not on this boat?” No one answers. “Please, Uncles, if you do see him, could you tell him his sister is looking for him?”

Tao begins to speak, but Fong cuts him off with a hacking sound. “Don’t talk! You just encourage her to stay longer.”

My face burns under my veil. Fong mentioned two other men—Ming Lai and someone named Drummer. Has one of them substituted for Jamie? If Jamie isn’t on the Titanic, then I am in for one long ride.

Three stout notes, blown from somewhere above, form a chord that rumbles through my body. The floor begins to move as the ship sets sail. The trumpets that herald us out to sea remain in my ear, sounding more like the howl of the hounds when the fox slips through their grasp.

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