1912, Atlantic Ocean

‘Anyone left here on deck E?’ cried Liam O’Connor. His voiceechoed down the narrow passageway, bouncing off the metal walls. ‘Anyone downhere?’

It was silent save for the muffled cries and clatter of hasty footsteps coming from the deckabove and the deep mournful creak of the ship’s hull, stressing and stretching as thebow end of the ship slowly dipped below the ocean’s surface.

Liam braced himself against the gradually steepening angle of the floor, holding on to thedoorframe of the cabin beside him. The chief steward’s instructions had been clear- to ensure every cabin at this end of the deck was empty before coming up and joininghim.

He wasn’t sure he wanted to; the screaming and wailing of women and children that hecould hear coming down the stairwell from above sounded shrill and terrifying. At least hereon deck E, amid the second-class cabins, there was an eerie sense of peace. Not quite silent,though. Far away, he could hear a deep rumble and knew it was the sound of the freezing oceancascading into the stricken ship, roaring through open bulkheads, gradually pulling herdown.

‘Last call!’ he cried out again.

A few minutes ago he had roused a young mother and her daughter cowering in one of the cabinswearing their life jackets. The woman was paralysed with fear, trembling onher bed with her daughter wrapped in her arms. Liam ushered them out and led them to thestairs to deck D. The little girl had quickly kissed his cheek and wished him luck as theyparted on the stairwell, as if — unlike her confused mother — she understood theywere all doomed.

He could feel the angle of the floor increasing beneath his unsteady feet. From the top ofthe passage he heard the crash of crockery tumbling from shelves in the steward’sroom.