officers, and a few of the crew
working in vain against the
disorder: she saw the boats filled before they were lowered, and
heard the shrieks as they were capsized; she saw spars and planks
and benches cast
overboard, and maddened men plunging after them;
and then, like the sudden
opening of the mouth of Hell, the
relentless,
triumphant fire burst through the forward deck and shot
up to the foreyard.
She was leaning against the mizen shrouds, between the coils of
rope. Nobody appeared to notice her, although the quarter-deck was
fast filling with persons
driven back by the fire, yet still
shrinking from the
terror and
uncertainty of the sea. She
thought: "It is but death--why should I fear? The waves are at
hand, to save me from all suffering." And the
collectivehorror of
hundreds of beings did not so
overwhelm her as she had both fancied
and feared; the
tragedy of each individual life was lost in the
confusion, and was she not a sharer in their doom?
Suddenly, a man stood before her with a cork life-preserver in his
hands, and buckled it around her
securely, under the arms. He was
panting and almost exhausted, yet he
strove to make his voice firm,
and even
cheerful, as he said:
"We fought the
cowardly devils as long as there was any hope. Two
boats are off, and two capsized; in ten minutes more every soul
must take to the water. Trust to me, and I will save you or die
with you!"
"What else can I do?" she answered.
With a few powerful strokes of an axe, he broke off the top of the
pilot-house, bound two or three planks to it with ropes, and
dragged the mass to the bulwarks.
"The minute this goes," he then said to her, "you go after it, and
I follow. Keep still when you rise to the surface."
She left the shrouds, took hold of the planks at his side, and they
heaved the rude raft into the sea. In an
instant she was seized
and whirled over the side; she
instinctively held her
breath, felt
a shock, felt herself swallowed up in an awful, fathomless
coldness, and then found herself floating below the huge towering
hull which slowly drifted away.
In another moment there was one at her side. "Lay your hand on my
shoulder," he said; and when she did so, swam for the raft, which
they soon reached. While she supported herself by one of the
planks he so arranged and bound together the pieces of
timber that
in a short time they could climb upon them and rest, not much
washed by the waves. The ship drifted further and further, casting
a faint, though awful, glare over the sea, until the light was
suddenly extinguished, as the hull sank.
The dawn was in the sky by this time, and as it broadened they
could see faint specks here and there, where others, like
themselves, clung to drifting spars. Mrs. Lawrie shuddered with
cold and the
reaction from an
excitement which had been far more
powerful than she knew at the time.
Her preserver then took off his coat, wrapped it around her, and
produced a pocket-flask,
saying; "this will support us the longest;
it is all I could find, or bring with me."
She sat, leaning against his shoulder, though
partly turned away
from him: all she could say was: "you are very good."
After
awhile he spoke, and his voice seemed changed to her ears.
"You must be thinking of Mr. Lawrie. It will, indeed, be terrible
for him to hear of the
disaster, before
knowing that you are
saved."
"God has spared him that distress," she answered. "Mr. Lawrie
died, a year ago."
She felt a start in the strong frame upon which she leaned. After
a few minutes of silence, he slowly shifted his position
towards her, yet still without facing her, and said, almost in a