An Unsinkable Love - By Terri Benson Page 0,28

of no use. The ship is listing and we can't launch them. It doesn't matter much anyway. There aren't enough boats for everyone. Not even close."

"Not enough boats? How can that be?"

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An Unsinkable Love

by Terri Benson

"They don't need enough boats, you see. Them's the rules.

Besides, the mucky-mucks who design them don't want to spoil the pretty ship by having all those lifeboats getting in the way of the passengers. The great Titanic wasn't supposed to sink, you know." A tear rolled down his face. "It wasn't supposed to sink." With a sniff, he turned and shuffled slowly away from the crowd.

Malcolm staggered as the deck tilted, wending his way down the boat deck promenade toward the noticeably less occupied stern. There were no lifeboats left on the davits at this end. He almost tripped over a body tangled in the supports of the railing. It was a senior crewman. Malcolm looked closely and realized the man sported a neat bullet hole in the center of his forehead—a victim of the hysteria of the desperate passengers, no doubt.

A few people hurried down the staircase to A Deck and he saw more groups on the deck below making their way to the stern. A loose hatchway in the metal wall behind him clanged and drew Malcolm's attention to a dark corner. The dusky shadows were oddly shaped and he stepped closer. With a start, he realized the shapes were two prone bodies. Both were men, lying face up on the deck. Their heads were haloed by inky pools. He knelt next to one, realizing it was one of Eldon's card-playing cronies named Peterson. The man's eyes were open, staring, frost already coating them. The other, smaller, man was a stranger. He wore the White Star uniform. Malcolm started to stand but saw a tear slip from the crewman's eye and roll into his ear. He crawled over to the slight figure.

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An Unsinkable Love

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"I'll get help," Malcolm said, as he laid his hand on the man's chest. Though tears continued to leak from the crewman's eyes, he didn't make a sound or move a muscle, except for an almost imperceptible rise and fall of his chest.

Malcolm recognized the dark halo as a puddle of blood, the unmistakable metallic odor pungent in the air. He picked up the injured man's hand. It was cold and flaccid.

Malcolm carefully reached behind the man's neck at the base of his head. He jerked his hand back when he felt a mass of soft, slimy tissue and small, hard bits. He leaned over and checked Peterson for a pulse, quickly confirming he was dead. By rolling the body over, he saw a large gash in the back of his head. The bloody gray mass and chips of bone brought a rush of bile to Malcolm's throat. Someone had violently attacked the two from behind, leaving them for dead.

He moved back to the crewman. "I'm afraid to move you by myself. I'll get help and we'll get you on a boat." The man made no reply or movement and Malcolm wondered if he were paralyzed.

He turned and raced down the listing deck toward the bow but pulled up short when he noticed there were no more lifeboats hanging from the davits. He pounded the railing in despair as he wracked his brain for a plan to get the injured man off the boat to safety.

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a few crewmen forging their way toward him through the mass of people crowding the railings. They turned and clattered up the staircase to the flat deck over the bridge. Malcolm watched as 94

An Unsinkable Love

by Terri Benson

they pulled a large canvas off a bulge on the roof. A grinding distracted him, and several deck chairs slid across the deck to pile up at the rail, knocking passengers off their feet. The list was becoming severe. He looked up at the crewmen, realizing they must have a plan to work so diligently under the circumstances. He leaped up the steps two at a time, propelling himself with the railings. As the oiled canvas slipped aside, he stared at the deflated form for a moment before realizing it was an Englehardt collapsible lifeboat, which he'd read about in one of the innumerable articles printed about the ship before the sailing. This might be his last chance to get the injured man off the ship.

"What can I do to help?" he asked.

"Get that canvas out of