Titanic: April 1912 by Kathleen Duey Page B

ask—or maybe she should just go back up on the boat deck. Without thinking any further, Karolina stood up. She pulled on her coat and crossed the ­little stateroom.
    The door latch made a little clicking sound, but Aunt Rose didn’t stir. Karolina eased out into the hallway and closed the door behind her. For an instant she stood still, wondering if she should go back and get her life belt. Then she shook her head. If they were in danger, she would be coming straight back down to get Aunt Rose.
    Feeling a prickle of nervousness slide over her skin, Karolina started down the hallway. There were a few people standing in open doorways. In front of the cabins nearest the stairway, two women were dragging a trunk from their room. One was tall and thin. The other was shorter and had long black hair. Karolina stared at them. They would never manage to get the heavy trunk up all those stairs. Unless the gangways were opened—
    â€œMiss? Missy?”
    The thin woman was gesturing. Karolina sighed. She pulled her coat tighter around her shoulders. “Yes?”
    â€œMy mother cannot walk up all these steps by herself. And I must help my sister with the trunk.”
    Karolina hesitated. “Have you talked to a steward? Why are you leaving your stateroom?”
    The thin woman shrugged. “Because my sister is a crazy.”
    The dark-haired woman in the doorway made an impatient sound deep in her throat. “I am not crazy. The man said we hit an iceberg head-on and the ship is sinking.”
    Karolina’s legs felt weak. “What man? Who told you that?”
    â€œA drunken man who accosted her in the general room up above.” The thin woman pointed upward. “And my sister believed him.”
    â€œI saw the iceberg,” Karolina said. “I felt a little bump, and there was a scraping sound.”
    â€œThis is all silly,” the thin woman said. “A drunk and a child tell us we hit an iceberg. No one felt anything, there’s no alarm, and the steward I asked told me to go back to bed. I’m inclined to believe him.” She kicked at the trunk.
    â€œI’m on my way to ask an officer what to do,” Karolina told them.
    â€œYou should have done that.” The thin woman glared at her sister. “You have just about scared Mama to death.”
    For the first time, Karolina looked past them and saw a frail and elderly lady perched on a trunk. Her eyes were wide, and her posture was rigid.
    â€œI’ll be right back down,” Karolina offered. “If you’re still here, I’ll tell you whatever I find out.”
    â€œIs that good enough for you?” the thin woman demanded, facing her sister again.
    â€œI don’t think we should wait.” The dark-haired woman lifted her chin, and the argument began all over again. Karolina turned toward the stairs.
    She hurried as fast as she could, slowing only to catch her breath as she topped the C-deck landing. The third-class general room was usually empty by ten when the lights were turned out. Not tonight. Karolina heard voices coming from behind the closed doors. As she came up the last few steps, two men passed her going the other way, their faces grim and worried.
    The night was bitterly cold as Karolina stepped out onto the promenade. There was no wind, and still no moon. The awful sound of the steam coming out of the funnels had stopped. What did that mean? There was still no vibration from the engines, either.
    Karolina could hear people talking from above and faint strains of music. The band was playing ragtime? At this hour on a Sunday? There was a crowd on the boat deck.
    Almost running, Karolina crossed the deck, passing the cargo hoist where little Davey had played. Then she stopped, staring upward at an officer talking to three men on the second-class deck. She went up a few steps, straining to overhear.
    â€œThe Marconi operator has been sending out the CQD since we hit,” the