Collision Course by Gordon Korman

Author:Gordon Korman [Gordon, Korman]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 978-0-545-38932-7
Publisher: Scholastic Inc.
Published: 2011-10-15T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER ELEVEN

RMS TITANIC

SATURDAY, APRIL 13, 1912, 10:25 P.M.

Paddy Burns was remembering what it was like to be happy.

It was the speed that made it work, he decided. As if his constant motion could unwind all the bad luck that had befallen him — the poverty of his family, the brutality of his stepfather, the squalor of his street life in Belfast, the murder of his best friend by the Gilhooleys, and his life as a hunted animal aboard the Titanic. None of it could touch him as long as he kept moving.

He danced on winged feet, twirling the girls as the steerage passengers thronged around, stamping their boots and clapping. Even Alfie, whose face was pinched and anxious, was bobbing his head in time with the music.

The stomping rhythm broke first. The crowd began to struggle and then part. Second Officer Lightoller bulled through the dancers, flanked by two able seamen.

Sophie spotted them first. “Paddy — run!”

Before Paddy could react, Lightoller’s fist locked onto his wrist. Struggle though he might, Paddy could not break the steel grip.

Juliana did the only thing she could think of. With a cry of “I feel faint!” she threw herself forward, trusting the second officer’s chivalry.

He did not fail her. He released Paddy and caught her sagging form just before she hit the deck. When he looked back again, Paddy was gone.

After that, the chaos was complete. The revelers stood back to open an escape route for Paddy, but closed ranks for the second officer and his men, blocking them at every turn. No one physically interfered with them, but the third-class passengers would not make way, no matter how loudly Lightoller bellowed.

Paddy scrambled out of the well deck via a steep companionway and looked around. From the rail, a heavy line stretched overhead — one of the guy wires anchoring the after mast. Breathing a silent prayer, he shinnied up the taut rope and dropped down to the second-class promenade, well behind the spectators watching the party below.

He dashed around the corner, leaped the gate, and slipped into the side entrance of the Verandah Café.

It was one of the most stunning rooms on the ship, featuring ivy-covered black lattice on the walls and immaculate white wicker furniture. The café was deserted except for a lone server collecting dirty dishes. He stared at the newcomer in dirty coveralls. “You can’t be in here!”

“They sent me to help clean up,” Paddy panted.

“What? Dressed like that?”

Paddy heard footsteps outside the door and knew he had no time to argue with the waiter. “I’m supposed to help!” He grabbed the tray from the bewildered man, tipped it up, and flipped the contents toward the door.

His timing could not have been more perfect. As Lightoller entered, he was pelted with drinks, cold coffee, and half-finished desserts. Glassware and ashtrays shattered at his feet.

Paddy bolted out of the café, leaving a trail of overturned tables in his wake. It wouldn’t slow down the second officer much, but he hoped it would give him enough of a cushion to disappear.

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