READ EXCERPTS |
The adult author
lets the story float
back to her childhood
experience ...
All
of us in the
small vessel,
bobbing in the shadow
of a dreadfully
inclined liner,
were trembling and crying—wondering
if we were really safe
as the swell
of heavy waves
banged us
into the hull
of Doria.
We rowed away
slowly but
surely, our
stomachs retching
to the movement
of each wave. I
hate to throw upit
smells awful inhere.Yuck,
vomit! I can’t
stop throwing up....
Trying
to cross a
mile of debris
in order to
reach the
Ile de France
felt more
desolate than
the ride of
the Ancient
Mariner. Leaving the
sinking ship
should have
made us euphoric,
but the stupor and shock
made people
lament ridiculous
things: “I’m
arriving to
safety half
naked.” “I’m lost without
my glasses.” “I left
my watch on
the dresser.”
“I left my
teeth in the bathroom.”
I admit that
I wondered
about my First
Communion
dress and
hoped it would
be recovered
somehow. Moreover, during
this ride from hell,
we were privy
to a sight
worse than
anything a horror film
could conjure:
the Stockholm,
the Swedish
ship that
had rammed
us, stood crippled in
the distance,
with its bow
crumpled like
discarded
tin foil in
a waste basket. On the
Doria, the
area of impact
was an enormous
black hole,
inviting in
torrents of
water like
a river in a raging
storm. And
its huge funnel
was so inclined
over the water
that it reflected
a red-hot
glow on the
calm sea.
As
only an eyewitness
can do, the
author presents survivors' terrifying
accounts, outdone
only by matching
heroic efforts
to save others
on a dramatically
listing ship
...
Peterson
and Rovelli
now faced
the daunting
task
of getting
the
150-pound
jack onto
the Promenade
deck
and to the
cabin
where Martha
lay
pinned beneath
the
elevator shaft.
Already
exhausted,
the
two men somehow
found
the Herculean
strength
to drag the
jack up the
sloping,
wet deck,
tearing nearly
every muscle
and sinew
in the process,
only
to be faced
with
getting the
jack
to the bottom
of
the stairs.
Undaunted,
they
muscled the
jack
down the steps,
pausing
for breaths,
until
arriving on
the
30-degree
inclined floor
of the cabin.
Peterson
and Rovelli
attempted
to lift the
elevator shaft,
which
he assessed,
had
broken Martha’s
back
and legs.
“Hang on,
Marty!” he
said aloud,
pumping the
jack
and finally
moving
the imposing
wreckage.
Martha’s face,
ashen except
for
the blood
hemorrhaging
from
her mouth,
seemed
to quietly
drift
to sleep—but
not
until she
could muster
her last words:
“Oh, darling,
I
think I’m
going.” Dr.
Peterson knelt
next
to his wife’s
body
and performed
the
routine but
painful
ritual of
checking for
her pulse
and heartbeat.
Numbed by
the shock
of every event
leading to
this tragic,
final
bow, he finally
succumbed,
muttering
simply, “Marty’s
dead”—a
look of disbelief
and torment
etched
across his
face.”
Chapters include
historical
reportage.
This
excerpt was
made by ABC
anchor, Edward
P. Morgan
...
The
daughter of this reporter,
Linda Morgan, accounted
for one of the incidents
of the tragedy which some
would classify as a miracle.
Sleeping in a stateroom
on the starboard side of
the Andrea Doria which bore
the full brunt of the Stockholm’s
crash, she was officially
reported as killed. Instead,
she was catapulted apparently
onto the bow of the Stockholm,
where a crewman found her
alive in the wreckage. She
was among the litter cases
brought to New York today,
not in critical condition
...
Within the space of 24 hours
this reporter has been pushed
down the elevator shaft
to the subbasement of despair
and raised again to the
heights of incredible joy,
washed, one suspects, with
slightly extravagant rivulets
of some heavenly champagne.
Last night, as far as
the world at large was
concerned, a girl, age
14 ... nationality American,
named Linda Morgan, was
dead. She happens to be
this reporter’s daughter.
She had been killed, by
the incontrovertible evidence
of an eyewitness ... But
Linda is NOT dead.
Testimony from
officers who were standing
on the Andrea Doria bridge
...
“She’s bearing down on us,”
I shout. “She’s coming right
at us!” But the Master had
already appraised the situation:
too late to swing to starboard.
Collision was by now inevitable.
We try to escape: “Hard
to port,” I hear the Master
command. We signal our turn
with the ship’s whistles.
Franchini asks, “Captain,
what about the engines?”
“No. Let them be! We need
all the speed we’ve got
now!” the Master replies.
The Stockholm is, by now,
coming full at us, right
into us, without a signal.
The Andrea Doria is beginning
to respond to the helm,
but it’s too late! Little
more than a minute had passed,
yet it seemed an eternity.
The Stockholm rammed us
right under the bridge,
crushing more than 20 meters
of the reinforced bow into
our hull. She slid along
the full length of our starboard
side.
Maritime
scientists share details
tested by nautical science.
The collision is reconstructed
by computer simulation,
which offers irrefutable
evidence ...
“Captain
Calamai, realizing that
he had no time to turn
right (it was calculated
later that he would have
needed eleven more seconds
to clear the other bow),
made a permissible decision
to turn left. A right
turn would most likely
have split the Stockholm
in half, since the Andrea
Doria was twice the size
of the Stockholm."
~Naval
architect Francesco Scotto."
©2006 Pierette Simpson, All Rights Reserved. | website: www.mcnpublishing.com
pierette@pierettesimpson.com
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