With a thud the giant stacks smashed into the river, setting off huge waves and crushing a lifeboat filled with people. Their screams echoed through the night. Albert’s heart thumped as he clung to the dresser. He shook from the force of the waves, but he held on. Salt water sprayed his face, stinging his eyes. He couldn’t see. He could barely breathe.
Hold on. Hold on.
An explosion thundered through the river. Wood, glass and metal flew everywhere. People who had been clinging to the ship’s port side were thrown into the water. The Empress was going under fast. And then she was gone. And so many were gone with her.
A wave of sadness and pain shot through Albert. Did his father make it? What about his uncle, aunt and Lewis? And Grace and her parents? Were they alive or …?
Don’t think about that, Albert told himself. Just hold on.
In the distance he saw a light. Was it a flare? And was something moving? A lifeboat? Yes! It wasn’t far away. He lifted an icy hand and waved.
“Help! Here I am. Help!” he called. His voice was low and raspy. He called again. Louder this time, “Help me! Please!”
Did anyone see him? Hear him? He couldn’t tell if the lifeboat was coming closer. It was so dark, it was hard to see anything clearly.
“Here! I’m alive. Please come!” he tried to shout louder. “Help!” He tried again and again, but the words sank into the river like the Empress.
The lifeboat wasn’t moving toward him! It was moving away. They hadn’t seen him at all.
Would anyone ever come? He scanned the river. All he could see were bodies. Fewer bodies than before.
It was quieter now in the water. He could only hear a few people calling for help, crying, sobbing, moaning. Albert knew what that meant. His tears mixed with salt water and stung his eyes again.
Don’t cry. Not now.
He kept scanning the water for a ship or lifeboat. Someone had to see him. But it was so dark, and he was so weary. He leaned his head against the dresser. His eyes began to close.
No. No. Stay awake. He forced his eyes open. You can’t fall asleep. If you sleep, it will be over. Stay alert. Think about something. Do something. Anything.
Albert began to sing. He sang “God Be with You,” his mother’s favourite hymn. He made up songs about his home on the farm in Ontario and walking up and down an English street with the Salvation Army band.
He pictured playing his cornet again with the band. He imagined playing each note perfectly this time and his father beaming and shaking his hand. Albert had taken such care of his cornet. He’d shined it up the night before the trip. But it was gone now. And his fellow musicians? Many of them were probably gone, too. But his father had to make it. He couldn’t be …
No! Don’t think about that, he told himself. Not now. Think of something else.
Albert pictured Grace sitting at the piano in the music room, her fingers positioned to play. He remembered her laughing. He pictured them standing together on the deck of the Empress that night. He remembered how they’d called that dark ship a ghost ship.
Soon after that everything had changed.
What had they hit? The ghost ship? It had been so close. Could the two ships have collided? But even if they had, how could that have destroyed the Empress? She was so solid. So strong. Everyone said so. But what else could have happened? What else could they have hit?
It was getting quieter and quieter around him. How much longer could he stay afloat? He was so cold, so achy, so tired. His eyes began to close again. It was as if they had a will of their own.
Don’t sleep. You can’t sleep. If you sleep, you might never wake up.
He forced his eyes open again. He looked out through the darkness.
Were his eyes playing tricks on him? Was that a boat in the distance? With his last ounce of energy he shouted, “I’m alive! Please come! Please help me!”
He lifted one arm off the dresser and waved. He waved again and again. Back and forth. Over and over. With the other arm he struggled to keep hold of the dresser.
No one waved back. No one heard him. Sadness and despair gripped him.
And then he saw movement. It was a small boat. A man was waving from a lifeboat!
Albert locked his eyes on the spot. A faint sound was coming from it.
“We’re coming. Hold on.” He could hear them now. He could see them now. There were several people in the lifeboat. Two of them were rowing. He only had to hold on until the lifeboat came.
“Hold on,” called the voice. The lifeboat was drawing closer.
“We see you.” The voices were clear now. The lifeboat stood out of the darkness like a light.
“Hurry! Please!” Albert called out. His teeth chattered. His arms felt as heavy as bricks. He didn’t know how much longer he could cling to the dresser. If he let go, there was nothing else to keep him afloat.
Hold on. Hold on.
His fingers began to slide off the dresser.