nineteen minutes past three
Look sharp ! Something lively ... ! '' * * * * * At seven minutes past three in the afternoon , Cecily Thorogood , that very self-possessed and prettily-clad young woman , was seated in a deck-chair on the saloon-deck of a 6,000-ton liner ; an American magazine was open in front of her , under cover of which she was exploring the contents of a box of chocolates with the practised eye of the expert , in quest of a particular species which contained crystallised ginger and found favour in her sight . At nineteen minutes past three Cecily Thorogood , still self-possessed , but no longer very prettily clad , was submerged in the chilly Atlantic up to her shoulders and clinging to the life-line of an upturned jolly-boat . To the very young Fourth Officer who clung to the boat beside her with one arm and manoeuvred for a position from which he could encircle Cecily 's waist protectingly with the other , she announced as well as her chattering teeth would allow that she -LRB- a -RRB- was in no immediate danger of drowning ; -LRB- b -RRB- was not in the least frightened ; -LRB- c -RRB- was perfectly capable of holding on without anybody 's support as long as was necessary . The chain of occurrences that connected situation No. 1 with situation No. 2 was short enough in point of actual time , but so crowded with unexpected and momentous happenings that it had already assumed the proportions of a confused epoch in Cecily 's mind . There were gaps in the sequence of events that remained blanks in her memory .