Disaster on the Titanic Read online

  Rescue on the Oregon Trail

  Danger in Ancient Rome

  Long Road to Freedom

  Race to the South Pole

  Journey through Ash and Smoke

  Escape from the Great Earthquake

  D-Day: Battle on the Beach

  Hurricane Katrina Rescue

  Disaster on the Titanic

  For Linda Aloi and the readers of Cobbles Elementary School

  Contents

  Half-Title Page

  The Ranger in Time Series

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Chapter 1: Look Out Below!

  Chapter 2: All Aboard!

  Chapter 3: Big News

  Chapter 4: Bound for New York!

  Chapter 5: Danger on Deck!

  Chapter 6: Climbing High

  Chapter 7: Rising Waters

  Chapter 8: Ready the Lifeboats

  Chapter 9: Not without My Brother!

  Chapter 10: Last Chance to Leave

  Chapter 11: Hiding in Plain Sight

  Chapter 12: Darkness and Ice

  Chapter 13: Overboard!

  Chapter 14: Lights on the Horizon

  Chapter 15: Back on Land

  Author’s Note

  Further Reading

  Sources

  About the Author

  Don’t Miss Ranger’s Next Adventure!

  Copyright

  Patrick Murphy hurried through the dark streets of Belfast. If he arrived late for work at the Harland and Wolff shipyard, the gate would be closed. He’d lose his pay for the day.

  Patrick picked up his pace. When he turned the corner and saw the open gate, his heart filled with relief. He’d made it!

  Patrick stopped at the time office, picked up his board, and tucked it into his pocket. The worker number stamped on the small piece of wood ensured that he’d get credit for the hours he’d worked when he turned it in at the end of the day.

  The yard hummed with activity as men streamed in from all over the city. The shadow of the big ship towered over them.

  Patrick had grown up in this shipyard, right along with the Titanic. He remembered visiting his father at work when he was a little boy. He’d peek in the big windows of the Harland and Wolff drawing room to watch Mr. Andrews and the other designers making plans for the biggest boats in the world. Patrick longed to stand at the desks with them, imagining and drawing such amazing ships.

  They started work on the Titanic in 1909, when Patrick was eleven. First came the gantry — a huge structure with cranes, elevators, and walkways. It was the scaffolding from which the men would build. Beneath the gantry, they’d laid the great ship’s keel. Then came the framing.

  On the morning of Patrick’s twelfth birthday, his father had placed two new pennies in his hand before he left for work. “Hold on to them until I get home,” he said. “We’ll go out together to buy a sweet.”

  That was the day a section of staging collapsed in the shipyard. Patrick’s father was killed in a fall. He’s away to the other yard, the shipbuilders whispered.

  Patrick tucked the pennies in a little cloth pouch. He hid them away in his trunk and promised himself he’d never spend them.

  But Patrick and his mother needed money to eat, so they went to work in one of Belfast’s linen mills.

  It was dangerous and dusty. Patrick’s mother developed a cough. Soon, it became so bad she couldn’t work anymore.

  Patrick needed a job that could support both of them. So when he turned thirteen, he went back to the shipyard, where crews continued to work on the Titanic. Patrick joined a riveting team that fastened great steel plates onto the ship’s skeleton. But now that work was mostly finished, Patrick took on other jobs — painting and running supplies. Everyone was busy getting ready for the ship’s launch, just two months away.

  Sometimes, Mr. Andrews himself would tour the shipyard. The pockets of his blue jacket were always stuffed with plans. Patrick wished he could stop work for just a moment on those mornings. He’d love to unroll the drawings and talk with the shipbuilder about what he might imagine next.

  But today, there was too much work for daydreaming. “Move along, Murphy!” the foreman called.

  Patrick hurried to his work site. Today, they’d start building the slipway, the big ramp that would run up to the ship and under the keel. On launch day, the Titanic would slide down that ramp into the water, and everyone would cheer.

  “Watch yourself!” someone called as a crane unloaded a pile of timbers beside the men. Patrick unhooked the bundle, and the crane’s arm rose up to get more.

  “Over here!” the foreman called. One by one, Patrick and the other men lifted the enormous timbers and walked them into place.

  “More on the way!” someone called as the crane’s arm swung their way again.

  Patrick wiped his brow with his sleeve. His stomach growled. How long was it until the morning break? Breakfast was only bread and tea, but it would be better than working with an empty belly.

  While Patrick waited for the next bundle of timbers, he let his eyes close, just for a moment, and listened. He loved the music of a ship coming to life — the banging and rattling of steel on steel.

  But then another sound rang out from above. A deep, booming voice.

  “Look out below!”

  “Did you find your life jackets yet?” Mom asked Luke and Sadie. They were getting ready to go for a boat ride with their friends the Tarars.

  “Not yet,” Luke said. “I’ll look in the shed. Want to come outside with me, Ranger?”

  Ranger barked and followed Luke to the door. Ranger always wanted to go outside.

  While Luke ran to the shed to look for life jackets, Ranger wandered over to Mom’s garden. There were always good smells there — birds and bugs, plants and dirt, and …

  Squirrel!

  Ranger looked around. There it was, over by the squash plants!

  Ranger chased the squirrel through the garden. He chased it past the tomatoes and carrots. He chased it across the lawn, around the picnic table, and up a tree. The squirrel sat on a branch, chattering down at him.

  “Nice try, Ranger,” Luke said as he walked by with the life jackets. “Maybe you’ll get one next time.”

  Ranger wasn’t worried about that. He didn’t really want to catch a squirrel anyway. He just loved chasing them. That was why he wasn’t an official search-and-rescue dog.

  Ranger had gone through lots of special training with Luke and Dad. He’d learned all about helping people who were missing or in trouble. He’d learned how to find people by following their scent. He’d practiced searching on rainy days and windy days. He’d practiced searching in the woods and in buildings. Ranger was very good at finding people and helping.

  But he was not so good at ignoring squirrels. To pass your search-and-rescue-dog test, you had to ignore everything except the command. You had to ignore hot dogs that people left on the lawn. You had to ignore good smells and birds and squirrels.

  When Ranger was taking his test, a squirrel had raced across the grass right in front of him. Ranger chased it. He knew Luke was just hiding, pretending to be missing. He wouldn’t have chased the squirrel if a person was really in trouble.

  But that didn’t matter. Ranger didn’t pass his search-and-rescue-dog test, so now he chased squirrels instead.

  This squirrel wasn’t coming down, though, so Ranger went to find Luke. He was in the driveway with his friends Zeeshan and Noreen. The Tarar family had just arrived. Luke and Sadie and their parents were loading everything into the car to go to the marina.

  “It’s too bad you don’t like boats, Ranger,” Luke said, giving Ranger a pat on the head. “But we won’t be gone long.”
He let Ranger back inside the house, and then the families drove away.

  Ranger padded around for a while to see if anyone had dropped food before they left. He licked up some cookie crumbs from the kitchen floor. Then he curled up in a patch of sunshine to nap.

  When Ranger woke, the sunny patch had moved. He went to the mudroom for a drink of water and heard a quiet humming coming from his dog bed. He walked over and pawed at his blanket until he uncovered the first aid kit he’d dug up in Mom’s garden on another day. The humming was coming from the old metal box. It was louder now.

  Ranger knew that sound. He’d heard it before, always when someone needed his help. One time, the old first aid kit had transported him to an explorers’ ship on a frozen sea. Another time, it had taken him to help a girl in a trembling, fiery city. It had sent him on long, dangerous journeys, to a flooded neighborhood, and to a battlefield on a faraway beach.

  All around the first aid kit in Ranger’s dog bed were his treasures, gifts from the children he met on those journeys. There was an old quilt square from a boy named Sam, a feather from a girl named Sarah, and a purple bandanna from Clare, the girl in the flood.

  Now the first aid kit was humming again. Ranger nuzzled the worn leather strap over his head, and the humming got louder. The box grew warm at his throat. Light spilled from the cracks. It grew brighter and brighter, until Ranger had to close his eyes. He felt as if he were being squeezed through a hole in the sky.

  And then the box was quiet.

  Ranger opened his eyes. New sounds pounded in his ears. Clanging and banging. Crashing and rattling. Deep voices shouting.

  The air smelled of sawdust and steel, paint and sweat and the sea.

  Above him, a huge machine creaked and swung its metal arm. A messy heap of wooden boards dangled overhead. They looked as if they might wiggle loose any second. Men rushed everywhere, carrying paint buckets, tools, and lumber.

  In the middle of it all, a boy a little older than Luke stood with his eyes closed.

  Then there was a terrible cracking sound from above. And a voice bellowed, “Look out below!”

  Ranger leaped at the boy and knocked him off balance. The boy tumbled backward, trying to catch his footing. He fell onto his backside in the sawdust as the timbers from above crashed to the ground.

  “Everyone all right?” someone shouted.

  A big man reached out and pulled Patrick to his feet. “You’re lucky that dog knocked you on your rear end. Those timbers would have cracked your head open.”

  Patrick looked at the splintered wooden planks. Then he looked at Ranger. “I don’t know where you came from, dog. But thank you.” He gave Ranger a scratch behind his ear.

  “Back to work!” the foreman shouted.

  Ranger stayed out of the way while the men hammered, painted, and checked the ship’s engines and boilers. All day long, he watched over Patrick.

  When the dinner horn sounded at the end of the day, Ranger followed Patrick to the time office to return the little wooden board that would give him credit for the hours he’d worked.

  Patrick almost tripped over Ranger when he turned to leave. “Whose dog are you?” All around them, workmen streamed down the gangway, heading home. No one seemed to be looking for a dog.

  “Well then,” Patrick said, “you’ll just have to come home with me.”

  So that’s what Ranger did. That night, he slept by the stove in the tiny apartment with Patrick and his mother. The next morning, he followed Patrick to the shipyard and watched over him again. He did the same thing the next day … and the next … and the next. There wasn’t much to eat, but the men at the shipyard gave Ranger little scraps from their lunches.

  Ranger stayed with Patrick while the men finished the slipway and painted the sides of the ship. He kept watch while they prepared mooring ropes, ladders, and fenders. He worried when Patrick’s work involved heavy machines or unstable beams. There was danger in the air every day but nothing Ranger could really do to help. Every night, he curled up by the stove with his first aid kit tucked in quietly beside him. He wondered when he’d finish his work here, and when he’d get to go home.

  The final days before the Titanic’s launch were the busiest of all. There was so much to be done before the ship would slide into the water for the first time! After that, it would be towed to the wharf, where workers would spend months outfitting the great ship for its maiden voyage.

  Patrick and Ranger arrived at the shipyard before the sun rose each morning. The men spread grease on the slipway they’d built. They took soundings in the channel to make sure the Titanic wouldn’t run aground.

  On the morning of May 31, 1911, a rocket exploded over the harbor, warning small boats to get out of the way. It was time for the Titanic to launch!

  Black smoke poured from the ship’s funnels. A White Star Line flag flew over the bow. Men pulled off their caps, and ladies waved their handkerchiefs as the ship slid into the water.

  “Look at that,” Patrick whispered, stroking Ranger’s fur as they watched.

  “And we built her right here in Belfast,” another man said.

  Patrick’s heart swelled with pride. It was the greatest ship to ever set sail across the Atlantic. The fastest, too. And he had helped build it.

  The Belfast launch was a day of celebration. Pride in a job well done. But when Ranger went home with Patrick that night, the first aid kit still sat quietly by the stove. That meant he had more work to do.

  So did Patrick. He set to work at the wharf, preparing the Titanic for its maiden voyage. There, workers installed the ship’s boilers and funnels. They painted and moved furniture and hauled supplies. Ranger lost track of the days until, one night, Patrick hurried home to tell his mother the most exciting news of all.

  “I’m going on the Titanic’s maiden voyage!” Patrick said. He felt as if his heart might burst out of his chest and leave tonight.

  “My heavens! How is that possible?” his mother asked.

  “They’ve chosen some men from the shipyard,” Patrick said, “in case anything needs to be fixed along the way. And I’ll be helping out as a steward, tending to the passengers.”

  His mother’s brow wrinkled. “But it’s a long trip. So far …”

  “On such a fast ship, I’ll be home before you know it,” Patrick promised. “And I may get promoted when I return to the shipyard. Wouldn’t it be nice to have more than bread and tea for supper?”

  His mother’s eyes shined with tears. “Your father would be so proud,” she said. “He’d have loved to see that ship sail. I’ll pray for your safety.”

  Late that night, after his mother went to bed, Patrick pulled a cloth pouch from his trunk. He turned it upside down and shook the two pennies from his father into his palm. They still looked brand-new. And they’d turned out to be lucky after all.

  Patrick stared out the window with Ranger at his side. “Can you believe it, dog?” he whispered, stroking Ranger’s fur. “We’re going to New York!”

  Ranger leaned into Patrick’s rough hand. He understood something big was about to happen. And wherever Patrick was going, he needed to go, too.

  On the morning of April 2, 1912, the Titanic set sail for the English city of Southampton. Patrick stood beside Ranger on the deck as Belfast grew smaller in the distance.

  “We’re off to New York, dog!” Patrick said, scratching Ranger behind his ear. “We will be soon, at least. First, we’ll go to England and France to pick up passengers. Then back to Ireland for one last stop in Queenstown. A little over a week from now, we’ll be setting off across the Atlantic!”

  “Murphy!” called one of the crewmen. “Let’s go! There’s painting yet to do.”

  Ranger followed Patrick down some stairs and through a long hallway to a propped-open door. Inside was a fancy bed, desk, and chairs. It smelled of polished wood and fresh paint. “You’d better wait here,” Patrick told Ranger. “They won’t want dogs in the first-class cabins.”

  R
anger sat in the hallway. The big ship was full of interesting smells. Salt water and steel and the sweat of all the men still working. Also … cat?

  Ranger sniffed the air.

  Definitely cat.

  He followed the cat smell down the hallway to a storage closet where a mother cat and her new kittens were curled up next to a crate of potatoes.

  Ranger barked.

  The cat hissed at him.

  Patrick appeared in the doorway. “I see you’ve met Jenny!” he said, and reached down to stroke the cat’s fur. She purred and leaned into Patrick’s hand. “She’s our ship’s cat.” Patrick stood up and patted Ranger’s head, too. “Don’t worry,” he whispered. “The kittens may be cute, but you’re still my favorite.”

  * * *

  Two days later, the Titanic arrived in Southampton to a flurry of activity. Ranger kept an eye on Patrick, but mostly he tried to stay out of the way while workers loaded supplies. Then came the passengers — a stream of men and women in dark, fancy clothes.

  Some of them brought dogs! They were mostly fluffy little things. But one tall man with a mustache boarded with an Airedale he called Kitty. Ranger also saw a wrinkly dog with a scrunched-up face.

  “I picked him up in Paris,” the dog’s owner told another man. “French bulldogs are popular there.”

  Patrick carried luggage for wealthy first-class passengers who had purchased expensive tickets with fancy rooms and fine dining. He directed third-class people where to go, too. Their tickets cost much less, so their cabins were simpler, more crowded, and on the lower decks.

  The night before they left Southampton, Ranger saw the Jenny cat again. She was carrying her kittens off the ship, one by one. It looked like only the dogs would be going to New York. That was fine with Ranger. He didn’t like being hissed at anyway.

  When the Titanic left England, crowds stood in the sunshine, waving handkerchiefs to say good-bye. It was four hours to Cherbourg, France, where the ship dropped anchor a mile offshore. Cherbourg’s pier wasn’t big enough for the Titanic, so another boat called the Nomadic had to ferry new passengers out to board the big ship.