An Unsinkable Love - By Terri Benson Page 0,3

inched away a few more steps.

The deckhand glanced cautiously over his shoulder and grunted. He sent a stream of tobacco juice squirting through 18

An Unsinkable Love

by Terri Benson

the air toward the railing, wiped his chin on a grungy sleeve and sauntered off.

Bree sighed in relief and turned her gaze beyond the trail of foaming water. She surveyed Queensland from a different perspective than ever before. Her father was afraid of the sea, and refused to allow his family to set foot on a boat, let alone sail out into the cobh. Of course, he'd rarely let Bree or her mother outside the cottage except to go to work at the Rothberrys, unless he was along.

The town really was very pretty, stair-stepping up the hillside in terraces, golden stone kissed by the soft glow of sun through a faint foggy haze. The ancient buildings showed their age, but in a dignified way, like an old dowager who still carried herself well.

She tried to fix the sight in her mind, not knowing if she'd ever see it again, not willing to admit she might miss it someday. So much more of the world remained to been seen, starting with the fabled city of New York, then on to the whole grand continent of America. Bree couldn't help the smile that fair split her face. She turned and looped her arm around a support post, watching as they drew in under the shadow of the big liner. How tall it was! And how on earth would she get on it? Her question was answered only a few moments later when the tender tied up next to a nearly identical one and a gangplank ran out from one boat to the next. Several more gangplanks led from there into the liner, including covered ones angling steeply to upper decks. High above, ship's officers scrutinized paperwork and doctors briefly inspected the eyes of each passenger as they queued on small landings.

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An Unsinkable Love

by Terri Benson

Closer by, another ramp led to a low, wide opening in the side of the Titanic, a scant dozen feet above water level. Mr.

Barton appeared at her side and gathered her trunk, steering her across the gangplanks toward the lower opening.

There was a commotion before they stepped inside. Bree gasped as she observed three men awkwardly climbing a rope dangling off the ship. Below, sailors in a dinghy tried to shake them off. A group of drunken Irishmen hung over the railing and shouted encouragement in Gaelic. Without warning, the man highest on the rope slipped, hit the others and knocked them off as he fell. It happened so fast she didn't have time to scream.

Mr. Barton tapped her shoulder. "They'll be all right." Even as he spoke, sailors fished the soggy men out of the water and pulled them into the dinghy. The purser urged her on gently, giving her a steady arm as they crossed into the bowels of the ship.

It was noisy inside the corridor. Workers scurried every which direction like ants, trunks and bags slung over their shoulders. Dollies loaded with cartons and cases trundled across the polished wooden floor. Thuds, crashes, curses and shouts echoed the hallways. Corridors led off at regular intervals as they walked farther into the ship. Several times, they were forced to flatten against the cold metal wall and allow a dolly loaded with more supplies or trunks to pass.

Small electric lights spaced along the ceiling gave off a feeble glow after the bright sunshine and it took a while for Bree's eyes to adjust.

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An Unsinkable Love

by Terri Benson

Her guide turned left and right seemingly at random and they went up unmarked flights of stairs. A sudden flicker of fear nibbled at her confidence. What if she got lost and no one found her? It was silly, of course, but her life had taken such an incredible turn and she felt off balance. After she'd completely lost track of direction, Mr. Barton stopped in front of a narrow, blank wooden door, flanked by others equally nondescript.

The purser nodded at the doorway. "This is your cabin.

You'll share it with a stewardess from second-class. The tailoring department is on F Deck. That's one deck below. Ask any steward you see and they can direct you. You'll need to report to your station as soon as we depart, so get your things put away." He set the trunk down and put out his hand. She shook it, embarrassed, knowing her palm was sweaty.

"Thank you, Mr.