That evening, as I had expected, the sounds of music and singing outside the cabin soared. I closed my book and ventured out into the corridor and down toward the General Room, where the noise was loudest. This was the first night I had done so, but the music enticed me. The pulsing rhythms of accordions and fiddles filled me with sweet memories of Ireland, and when I drew closer and heard a lad singing a sad, familiar air, tears stung my eyes. The reality was that my life in Kilcross had been an unhappy one, but, at this moment, homesickness overcame me like a crashing wave. Instead of fighting it, I let it seep through me and allowed my tears to flow.

Nora, of course, was having the time of her life, dancing and carrying on in the middle of the crowd in the General Room. She raised her dress up to her knees and spun around, her feet beating out the rhythm of the music on the floor. I couldn’t help but smile along with everyone else. Her good humor was infectious. I knew she would probably stay there until the dancing was over. I went back to the cabin, packed my suitcase and then lay down on my bed with a favorite book.

I must have dozed off, for I was awakened by a strange noise. I sat up and looked toward the door. Maybe it was Nora returning. But her bed was empty. I came fully awake and realized that it was not really a sound I had heard, but a sensation, like a bump. At first, I thought it was the music that had awoken me, but it had already stopped, and there were no sounds out in the corridor. I was about to dismiss it as my imagination and go back to sleep when I felt another bump, followed this time by a loud grinding, scraping sound, as if the ship had grazed against something.

I sat straight up in bed and held my breath. I knew now it had not been my imagination. My ability to predict events, which had started in my childhood, had never left me. It always started with the same signs: a quivering deep in my stomach, sudden chills and a sense of elation or, more often, foreboding. It was foreboding I felt now. Something was not right with the ship. I went to the door and opened it to look up and down the corridor. All was quiet. I went back inside and stood as if at attention, listening and waiting.