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survivors along the hull stood silently, wordlessly,
watching the death struggle in the river.
I pulled Karel to his feet.
“Do you think Mae …” But I couldn’t finish. Mae couldn’t be
out there fighting for her life.
Could she?
“No! Not Mae! Impossible! She’s a strong swimmer.” Karel
turned from me. “Stay put! I’m going to find my sister.”
I seized his arm. “I’m coming with you!”
“No!” He heaved a heavy sigh and looked back at me. “No,”
he said more gently. “I need you to stay safe. You have to wait
here. Please, Dee, for my sake?”
“But what about Mae?”
“I’ll find her, I promise. I won’t come home without her. Now
you promise me something. Remain on the hull ‘til help comes,
then get yourself back to Cicero and stay with my parents ‘til I
return.”
I managed a nod. Of course, Karel’s parents. Mae’s parents!
Karel knew they would be as worried as Mama once word of this
disaster got out.
“I swear! I’ll wait for—”
But Karel had disappeared into the mass of survivors on the
hull. I was as alone as …
Mae!
I searched the river, but the spectacle was more than I could
bear. Yet what if Mae was swimming toward me right now? What
if she was calling my name? I had to keep my wits about me.
Oh, but the noise! The unbearable screams! I wrestled with
the impulse to cover my ears.
No! I would not give in to my fears. I brushed my raindrenched bangs from my eyes and forced myself to watch as
young women, weighed down by long dresses, brassieres,
girdles, and boots, panted for air. Men, in wool suits, stiffcollared shirts, and ties, floundered about. Mothers clutching
their children fought to keep them all afloat.
One mother looked to be losing the battle. She and her
baby went under, but then miraculously, the baby resurfaced,
a look of surprise on its tiny face. I waited for the mother
to reappear, but all I could see were her hands, holding her
squirming infant up for air. Then one by one, the mother’s
hands slipped away. She was gone. The baby flipped onto its
back, still squirming.
A second later, the baby disappeared beneath the surface,
sinking to its death beside its mother. I let out a strangled
scream, overcome now with a terror I’d never known. Mae could
be out there, groping for her life. She had to hold on. Karel
would come for her.
Though the other survivors on the hull still seemed dazed
and motionless, the stunned bystanders on the wharf and the
bridge and the street had jumped to life. They tossed anything
that could float into the water as a life-saving device. Planks and
ropes and loose boards went flying. Poultry and produce workers pitched wooden chicken coops and empty lettuce crates.
A lucky few reached the debris, managing to float or kick
their way toward rescue.
Two women had gotten hold of a coop and were paddling
toward the dock, when a man’s head burst forth from the surface
near them. The man seized the coop, trying to pry it from them,
but the women fought back and won. The man sank back down.
A second later, one of the women jerked and bobbed under. She
splashed back up, gasping for air. Her friend reached for her.
Both women sagged over the coop in apparent relief. All at once,
the second woman jerked and then disappeared beneath the
surface. Then the first woman was gone again too.
I prayed as the first woman bobbed up, splashing and kicking at some unseen menace below. She must have gained her
freedom because a moment later, she went slack and flopped
across the coop. Seconds, then minutes went by, but the second
woman never reappeared. Neither did the man.
A policeman on the wharf pulled the floating woman
to safety, where she collapsed into a heap, crying, “Hazel!
Hazel!”
Was Mae out there right now being dragged to her death?
No! Karel had said Mae was a strong swimmer. Mae would
fight. Mae would survive.
The tugboat Kenosha , the one that was supposed to pull the Eastland out onto Lake