No more women arrived, and soon the crewman in charge of our lifeboat jumped aboard and gave the signal to loosen the ropes that held the boat to the side of the ship. As he did, the deck turned into a madhouse, people shouting and crying and protesting that the boat wasn’t full. A large man pushed his way through the crowd and tried to jump into the boat as it was lowered. As he did so, a ship’s officer pulled out his pistol and shot him. He staggered backward and collapsed. The women in the boat let go of all pretense of civility and began to scream. Bile rose in my throat and I wanted to jump out and run to the safety of the deck. I closed my eyes and did my best to beat down panic.

As the boat was lowered, it swayed and bumped against every deck. The front of it rose up and the back went down so that we were at a slant. Then it slanted the other way as the seamen fought to control the ropes. My knuckles were white as I grasped the side of the boat. I began to sob, but the wind whipped away my tears as soon as they appeared. I cried out to God and all the saints I could name to take pity on me.

We landed on the surface of the water with a thud. Freezing cold waves splashed over us. I trembled like a wisp of straw in the wind, and my teeth chattered so hard I thought they would fall out.

“Mother of God,” I cried, “don’t let me die! I’m too young. I promise I’ll go to Mass every week and light a candle every day, if only you’ll save me. And I promise I’ll be good to Delia, and I won’t be selfish ever again, and . . .”

I carried on for a while, trying to bargain with the Blessed Virgin. When I ran out of promises, I quieted down. We had moved well away from the ship and our boat sat rocking in the water. The crewman told us we would have to wait there for rescue.