Free Unsinkable by Gordon Korman Page B

and yanked the towel clean off.
“How dare you, sir?” came an outraged, authoritative voice.
At that moment, the attendant came back into the room and took in the scene. “Please, sir! Don’t you know who this is? It’s Colonel Astor! He’s not to be disturbed, nor is anyone in my care!”
“There’s a thief on board!” the bodyguard growled. “We followed him to this part of the ship.”
“You are mistaken, I’m sure,” the attendant said stiffly. “This part of the ship is for gentlemen.” The word clearly excluded them. “If you do not leave at once, I shall have to call the master-at-arms.”
The henchman pulled himself up to a full six feet and four inches. “You do what you must. I can break two necks if necessary.”
Gilhooley held him back. “Easy, Seamus. This is a ship. The little rat has nowhere to run. We’ll find him soon enough. And when we do, he’s going over the side.”
Paddy lay beneath the towels, barely daring to breathe.
As Gilhooley and his man left, Paddy heard the voice of John Jacob Astor once again. “Well done, Joseph,” the wealthiest of the wealthy praised the attendant. “I shall mention your handling of this situation when I dine with the captain this evening.”
Amen, thought Paddy. But now he faced another problem. The Turkish bath that had saved him was now his prison. He couldn’t very well leave without being noticed. Yet it was more important than ever for him to get off the ship at this last port. Once they headed into open ocean, there would be noescape. He would be trapped on board with two Gilhooley gangsters. And then surely he would never see New York.
He needn’t have worried. After a few minutes, a voice in his ear whispered, “Come with me — not a sound.”
Paddy got out from under the towels. Colonel Astor and the other gentlemen were either covered up or dozing. He followed Joseph through the steam room and onto the deck of the swimming bath.
“I’m not going to ask what you took from those brutes,” the attendant told him in a low voice.
Twelve pounds, Paddy thought dismally. Would that he’d never reached his hand inside that cloak! Aloud, he said, “A long, sad story, it is.”
Joseph did not press him further. “Stay clear of those two,” he advised before returning to his very important customers. “They look more than capable of turning their threats into reality.”
Paddy made no reply. All his attention was focused on the porthole closest to him. It showed the departed tender halfway back to Queenstown Harbor.
He was too late.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN
PORT OF CALL: QUEENSTOWN
T HURSDAY, A PRIL 11, 1912, 1:30 P.M.
Captain E. J. Smith, Commodore of the White Star Line, the finest and most experienced master of any ship on the high seas, stood ramrod straight on the bridge of the Titanic. His eyes were not on Queenstown, but on the open Atlantic. That was the style that had made him a legend — focus exclusively on the path ahead. It made no difference where one had been, only where one was going.
The ocean was reassuringly calm, as if in tribute to his final crossing. Captain Smith was retiring after taking the Titanic on her maiden voyage. It was fitting that his last command would be a memorable one.
“All right, Mr. Lightoller,” he addressed his second officer. “Weigh anchor.”
Suddenly, a very young seaman rushed ontothe bridge, all agitation. “Sorry, sir! I tried to stop them —”
Kevin Gilhooley and his huge henchman, Seamus, elbowed their way into the captain’s presence.
“Captain, you have a criminal among your crew!” Gilhooley accused.
“What I have,” Smith said sternly, “are two passengers who have not been invited onto the bridge.”
“I told them, sir! They wouldn’t listen —”
“At ease, Mr. Loomis,” said the captain, always under perfect control.
Kevin Gilhooley was not accustomed to having his requests ignored. “Did you not hear me, Captain? I said one of your crew is a thief! I saw the boy not half