She felt her own fear deep down, at the very periphery of her awareness,
for she was a sea-creature who loved and understood the sea - and knew
its monumental might. She knew what awaited them out there in the
storm, and she was afraid. With a deliberate effort she lifted the
slump of her shoulders, and set the smile brightly on her lips and
picked up the heavy tray.
At that moment the speakers of the public-address system gave a
preliminary squawk, and then filtered the Captain's cultured and
measured tones into the suddenly silent ship.
Ladies and gentlemen, this is your Captain speaking. I regret to inform
you that we have not yet established radar contact with the salvage tug
La Mouette, and that I now deem it necessary to transfer the ship's
company to the lifeboats. There was a sigh and stir in the crowded
lounges, heard even above the storm. Samantha saw one of her favourite
passengers reach for his wife and press her silvery-grey head to his
shoulder.
You have all practised the lifeboat drill many times and you know your
teams and stations. I am sure I do not have to impress upon you the
necessity to go to your stations in orderly fashion, and to obey
explicitly the orders of the ship's officers. Samantha set down her
tray and crossed quickly to Mrs. Goldberg. The woman was weeping, softly
and quietly, lost and bewildered, and Samantha slipped her arm around
her shoulder.
Come now/ she whispered. Don't let the others see you cry.
Will you stay with me, Samantha? Of course I will. She lifted the
woman to her feet. It will be all right - you'll see. just think of
the story you'll be able to tell your grandchildren when you get home.
Captain Reilly reviewed his preparations for leaving the ship, going
over them item by item in his mind. He now knew by heart the
considerable list he had compiled days previously from his own vast
experience of Antarctic conditions and the sea.
The single most important consideration was that no person should be
immersed, or even drenched by sea water during the transfer. Life
expectation in these waters was four minutes. Even if the victim were
immediately pulled from the water, it was still four minutes, unless the
sodden clothing could be removed and heating provided. With this wind
blowing, rising eight of the Beaufort scale at forty miles an hour and
an air temperature of minus twenty degrees, the chill factor was at the
extreme of stage seven which, translated into physical terms, meant that
a few minutes exposure would numb and exhaust a man, and that mere
survival was a matter of planning and precaution.
The second most important consideration was the physiological crisis of
his passengers, when they left the comparative warmth and comfort and
security of the ship for the shrieking cold and the violent discomfort
of a life raft afloat in an Antarctic storm.
They had been briefed, and mentally prepared as much as was possible. An
officer had checked each passenger's clothing and survival equipment,
they had been fed high sugar tablets to ward off the cold, and the
life-raft allocations had been carefully worked out to provide balanced
