Titanic: April 1912 by Kathleen Duey Page A

was what he had been hoping for. He hurried, his footsteps a quick staccato rhythm.
    Where the Grand Staircase opened onto the dining saloon reception room, Gavin began to run. He knew exactly where he was going now, and how to get there fast. He shoved open the heavy doors and pounded through the empty first-class dining room. He dodged around the pillars, zigzagging to miss the tables, their snowy linen tablecloths set with silver and glasses for breakfast. The pair of shoes over his shoulder bounced wildly as he ran.
    He hit the pantry doors at a run, stiff-arming them open. There were voices somewhere nearby, but as he rounded the corner, he couldn’t see anyone. He ran past the pastry cooks’ worktable and sprinted into the galley.
    The counters and basins looked as familiar as old friends, and Gavin felt himself calming down a ­little, slowing his stride to catch his breath. Everything looked normal. Nothing was out of place. The shining steel chopping machines were clean, ready for the next day’s work.
    â€œGavin?” It was Wallace, his round face twisted with fear. He was standing near the back wall. “Gavin, Lionel says she’s going to sink.”
    Gavin’s calmness evaporated, leaving behind a dryness in his throat. “Lionel said it?”
    Wallace nodded. “I saw him maybe twenty minutes ago. He said he had been up in first class, pounding on people’s doors to wake them up. Half of them wouldn’t believe him.”
    â€œYou should get up on the boat deck, Wallace. Where’s Harry? Is he with you?”
    Wallace shook his head. “I saw him in our stateroom, but he stayed back to help some family carry their baggage, and I haven’t seen him since.”
    Gavin stepped back, turning. “I have to get someone in third class. Then I’ll be up there. You just get going.”
    Wallace pushed off the wall, his eyes focusing on the doors that led back into the pantry. He nodded and slouched his way toward them. Gavin watched him for a second, then started off again at a run. His extra shoes bounced against his shoulder so hard that it hurt. On an impulse he threw them to one side and ran faster. Lionel would never say something like that if he didn’t believe it.
    The second-class dining saloon was empty except for a few crew members who sat talking quietly on the far side. Gavin recognized two of them, but didn’t know their names. The third, a stocky, red-faced man in a steward’s uniform, looked up and frowned. Gavin tried to think of his name. Peterson? Or Peters? “There’s water pouring into the forward crew cabins,” Gavin managed between ragged breaths, staggering to a stop, facing them. “You should all get up to the boat deck now.”
    The steward shook his head in disapproval. “You’d better not let Captain Smith hear you trying to panic people like that. This is the Titanic , boy. She’s unsinkable.”

Chapter Seven
    Karolina lay for a long time in the darkness, listening to every tiny sound. The engines had not yet started up again, and the silence was unsettling. Her whole body was tense—she was expecting the emergency alarm to go off. But it didn’t.
    After a few moments, Karolina tried closing her eyes. As the silence went on, she began to calm down. She stretched, willing herself to relax. But she couldn’t. Every tiny sound, every creak and whisper of the metal that surrounded her, kept her alert, made her listen harder.
    Karolina tried to remember exactly what Gavin had said. He had reassured her, then he had told her that he would come to warn her if anything was really wrong. Karolina pulled in a deep breath and turned onto her side. He had promised. A moment later, she flopped back over and stared straight upward into the darkness. What if Gavin couldn’t come?
    Karolina sat up. It would take only a few minutes for her to run up the stairway and find a steward to