Next came three teenage girls who showed no hesitation but dove cleanly into the blue-green swells.
"Swim to a deck chair and use it for a float," Giordino instructed everyone repeatedly.
Pitt separated families into a group and while Loren cheered the children, he directed their parents to jump and latch onto a floating deck chair. Then he held the children over the side by the hands as far as he could reach and let them drop, holding his breath until the mother and father had them safely in tow.
The great curtain of flame crept closer and breathing became more difficult. The heat felt as though they were standing in front of an open furnace. A rough head count told Pitt only thirty people were left, but it would be a close race.
A great bulking fat man stopped and refused to move. "The water's full of sharks!" he screamed hysterically. "We're better off here, waiting for the helicopters."
"They can't hover over the ship because of air turbulence from the heat," Pitt explained patiently. "You can burn to a cinder or take your chances in the water. Which is it? Be quick, you're holding up the others."
Giordino took two paces, tensed his powerful muscles and lifted the fat procrastinator off his feet. There was no animosity, no expression of meanness in Giordino's linblinking eyes as he carried the man to the side and unceremoniously dumped him overboard.
"Send me a postcard," Giordino shouted after him.
The diverting action seemed to motivate the few passengers who hung back. One after the other, with Pitt assisting the elderly couples to take the plunge, they departed the burning ship.
When the last of them was finally gone, Pitt looked around at Loren. "Your turn," he said.
"Not without my colleagues," she said with a feminine resolve.
Pitt stared below to make certain the water was clear. Larimer was so weak he could barely lift his legs over the rail. Giordino gave him a hand as Loren jumped arm in arm with Moran. Pitt watched anxiously until they all cleared the side and swam away, admiring Loren's endurance as she shouted words of encouragement to Larimer while towing Moran by the collar.
"Better give her a hand," Pitt said to Giordino.
His friend didn't have to be urged. He was gone before another word passed between them.
Pitt took one last look at the Leonin Andreyev. The air around shimmered from the blasting heat waves as flames shot from her every opening. The list was passing fifty degrees and her end was only minutes away. Already her starboard propeller was clear of the water and steam was hissing in white tortured clouds around her waterline.
As he was poised to leap, Pitt abruptly went rigin in astonishment. At the outer edge of his peripheral vision he saw an arm snake out of a cabin porthole forty feet away. Without hesitation, he picked up one of the still soggy blankets from the deck, threw it over his head and covered the distance in seven strines. A voice inside the cabin was screaming for help. He peered in and saw a woman's face, eyes wine in terror.
"Oh, my God, please help us?"
"How many are you?"
"Myself and two children."
"Pass out the kids."
The face disappeared and quickly a boy about six years of age was thrust through the narrow port. Pitt set him between his legs, keeping the blanket suspended above the two of them like a tent.
Next came a little girl no more than three. Incredibly she was sound asleep.
"Give me your hand," Pitt ordered, knowing in his heart it was hopeless.
"I can't get through!" the woman cried. "The opening is too small."
"Do you have water in the bathroom?"
"There's no pressure."
"Strip nakedly" Pitt shouted in desperation. "Use your cosmetics.
Smear your body with facial creams."
The woman nodded in understanding and disappeared inside.
Pitt turned and, clutching a child under each arm, rushed to the rail. With great relief he spied Giordino treading water, looking up.