The bed frame had been pried away from the wall, and Carey was gently easing his wife out with the help of the ship’s doctor and another crewman. Carey saw the waiter.

“Angela, I was worried’ about you.”

“She’s gonna be all right?” Angela said with concern. Mrs. Carey’s eyes were shut. Heir nightgown was wet with blood.

The doctor was taking the, woman’s pulse. “She passed out, but she’s still alive. There may be internal injuries.”

Carey noticed the dripping clothes and empty hands. “These guys found me. I got a jack sent over from one of the rescue ships. Guess you didn’t find anything in the garage.”

Angelo shook his head.

“My God, man, you’re ‘soaked. I’m sorry you went through all that.” .

Angelo shook his head. “It was nothing.”

The doctor jabbed a hypodermic needle into the woman’s arm. “Morphine for the pain,” he explained. He tried to hide the worry in his eyes. “We’ve got to get her off the ship as soon as possible.”

They wrapped the unconscious woman in a blanket and carried her up, to the promenade deck on the lower side. The fog had miraculously disappeared, and a small flotilla surrounded the ship, blazing lights reflected in the sea. Coast Guard helicopters hovered above like dragonflies. A steady stream of lifeboats plodded back and forth between the stricken liner and rescue ships.

Most of the lifeboat traffic was between the Doria and a huge passenger ship with the words Ile de France on its bow. Searchlights from the Ile were trained on the Doria. Word to abandon ship had never come down. After waiting for two hours, passengers simply went over the side on their own. Women and children and older people were being taken off first. Progress was slow because the only. way they could get off the boat was with ropes and nets.

Mrs. Carey was strapped onto a stretcher that was carefully lowered with lines down the side of the ship to a waiting lifeboat, where friendly hands reached up to receive her.

Carey leaned over the rail watching until his wife was safe, then turned to Angelo. ‘

“Better get your butt off this ship, my friend. She’s gonna go down.”

Angelo looked sadly around him. “Pretty soon, Mr. Carey I help a few more passengers first.” Smiling, he said, “Remember what I say about my name.” When Angelo first met the Careys he’d joked that his name meant “angel,” someone who serves others.

“I remember.” Carey enveloped the waiter’s hand in his. “Thanks. I can never repay you. If you ever need anything, I want you to come to me. Understand?”

Angelo nodded “Grazie. I understand. Please say goodbye to the beta signora. “

Carey nodded, heaved himself over the side, and slid down a rope into the lifeboat. Angelo waved goodbye. He hadn’t told Carey or anybody about the wild scene in the garage. This wasn’t the time. There might never be a right time. Nobody would believe a fantastic story told by. a lowly waiter: He remembered a Sicilian saying: The bird who sings in the tree ends up in tie cooking pot. .