A violent headache struck me, and I felt dizzy. Despite the cold, I felt as if I was burning up. “Please . . .” I begged again, “please.”

“Blow your whistles,” the crewman called into the distance, “so we can find you.”

I held my breath as we rowed closer to the floating bodies. As we approached, the whistling stopped, replaced by anguished cries. Dear God, I thought, some of them are still alive. One poor soul managed to clutch the side of the boat with gnarled fingers. A seaman leaned over to haul him in as the women in the boat screamed and shrank away. One terrified woman tried to pry the grasping fingers loose. I watched in horror as the poor wretch finally lost his grip and slid back into the sea. The whistle sounds had faded now, as had the wall of sound. The boat I had imagined was Nora’s had disappeared, and I knew in my heart she was gone.

The crewman made the sign of the cross and bowed his head.

“May God have mercy on their souls,” he whispered.

* * *

After the Titanic sank, we sat for what seemed like eternity in the lifeboat, waiting for rescue. In an eerie way, the silence was almost as deafening as the wailing had been. No one moved. The crewmen assured us that another ship would arrive soon to pick us up. I wondered if they were reassuring themselves as much as us. We waited, huddled together to stay warm, the smell of fear surrounding us. I think few us believed such a ship would ever come. I remember looking up at the empty space where the Titanic had been and wondered if it had all been a dream. How could such a colossal vessel have completely disappeared? Had it been a ghost ship, like the ones I had read about in stories of long ago? As I remembered the ghostly tales I had grown up listening to beside Irish firesides, I closed my eyes and began to weep. I wished fervently that I was back in my warm bed in the cottage attic, surrounded by my books.

I drifted into a state somewhere between sleep and wakefulness. I prayed the eternity of waiting would end, if not by rescue, by death. It was then that sudden shouts startled me, and I looked up. In the distance I saw lights. Was it a mirage or the rescue ship the crew had promised? I prayed to God it was. As it came closer, I knew my prayers had been answered. I learned later that the ship, the Carpathia, had arrived within two hours of the Titanic sinking—at four in the morning. The horizon was tinged with a faint orange halo as dawn started to break over us. If we’d had the strength, I suppose we would have cheered, but, as it was, we sat mute and shivering.