I shook violently, teeth chattering, another scream trapped in my chest while I tried to grasp what had happened. The priest yanked his jacket off, having had the forethought to put it on over his lifesaver. He kindly wrapped it around my shoulders.

‘You’re safe! Praise be to God! That was a glorious thing, to be sure,’ he said. ‘I’ve never seen anything like it!’ He crossed himself and raised his voice. ‘We prayed for a miracle, dear brethren, and Our Lord delivered. Trust in Him and thou shall be saved!’ he cried over the boat, taking full credit for my rescue.

Sobbing and coughing up seawater, I curved myself into the strong, safe arms of the baker. ‘What happened?’ I gasped when I could finally speak. ‘At first, I thought it was a torpedo. It hit me so hard in the belly and lifted me. I was drowning . . . going down . . . down.’

‘A dolphin,’ the priest cried over the racket now coming from the ship. ‘Brought you clean out of the water. I never would have believed such a thing if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes.’ He struggled to his feet and raised his hands. ‘Glory be to God!’ Then he wobbled a little and plopped back onto his bottom.

For a moment, everyone stared at the spot where the creature had disappeared. Somebody started clapping, then everyone joined in, whooping and hollering in a manic kind of joy. Yes, miracles do happen, and everyone on that lifeboat understood they had witnessed one.

Silence fell just as suddenly, faces turned away from the propeller. Someone wept. Everyone closed their eyes, or turned them towards the centre of our boat. Nobody wanted to look upon the carnage that floated around us. Most were shivering in spite of the bright sun. The groaning and complaining that resonated from the ship in its battle to stay afloat also changed its tune. A great whoosh came from the open portholes, as if the Britannic expelled her final breath. The gale-like draught was so strong it pushed us away from the vessel. Anything small enough to fly out through the eighteen-inch portholes did so, scattering gauze, bandages, paper dishes, gloves, caps, and cotton wool over the water like confetti.

‘What’s happening, another explosion?’ I asked.

The priest shook his head. ‘The air’s being forced out as the ship fills with water – that air would have kept her afloat if only it had been trapped inside. Now she’s doomed for sure.’

‘You mean if the portholes weren’t open, she would have stayed afloat?’