Of the horrors that attended the burning of the _Atlanta_ in mid-ocean
that September night none could clearly tell, not even the survivors,
so sudden had been the alarm, so terrible the onset of the leaping
flames, so wild the ferocity of almost every one as they fought over
the lifeboats, forgetting honor and chivalry in the mad rush for
continued existence.
From the first moment it was evident that the ship was doomed. The fire
had gained such headway before it was discovered that its progress
could not be checked. So the dread alarm, “Fire! Fire! Fire!” rang out
in horror from anguished voices blending with the roaring, leaping
flames, and the sullen roar of old ocean, both deadly enemies to
mankind, and eager for their destruction.
Over the hurly-burly of wind and wave and fire rose the captain’s
voice, ordering out the lifeboats, and then the struggle for life
began, intensified by the anguished shrieks of women and children,
wailing and screaming in their despair.
The boats were lowered, but, alas, there would not be room for all the
_Atlanta’s_ freight of human souls!
So the struggle for supremacy began, the young and the strong jostling
the old and weak, fighting for place and supremacy. Ah, Heaven, that
such cruelty and selfishness should exist beneath the sky!
The few brave, chivalrous souls, the captain and first mate among
them, who insisted that the women and children should be given first
place and the men take their chances, had their voices drowned by
angry, clamorous cries, as the traitors scrambled down the ladder
pell-mell into the boats, crowding them till they almost sank with
their heavy freight.
In the awful glare of light that illuminated the sea and sky and the
scene of terror, Leon Lyndon leaned against the deck rail with his arm
about his daughter, pleading, praying the selfish wretches to take her
in and save her, though he must himself perish.
In the lurid scene of smoke and flame Jessie’s face shone clear and
pale as a lily, as she clasped his neck, entreating him not to let her
be separated from him.
“Oh, papa, darling, there is no one to love poor Jessie but you! Think
how lonely I should be in the wide world without you, my only friend!
If both cannot be saved, let us die together!”
The man’s face, white already with the anguish of despair, grew more
pallid still in the lurid light that glared on it as though her
pathetic plaint went through his heart.
Clasping her close as though in a last embrace, he cried passionately:
“Oh, my darling, it is a cruel pass to which we are brought, but, as
for me, I am growing old, and it does not much matter. My life has been
a failure, and there are times when I have been tempted to end it with
my own hands. But since I found you, Jessie, you have made it sweeter,
so that I would fain live for you! But it cannot be. Even if I can
persuade those selfish men to give you a place in the lifeboat, I must
be left behind. In a moment we part forever! Listen, Jessie, my sweet
daughter, to the last words of a dying man!”
She clasped her fair arms about his neck, and raised her lovely face,
tear-wet and pain-drawn, to his own.
“Papa, darling, we cannot part. Do not send me from you!”
All this time a man had been lingering near them unheeded. He could see
their agony, but he could not catch their words, drowned in the ocean’s
roar and the crackling of the flames, blent with the wild cries of the
panic-stricken passengers.
Leon Lyndon bent his convulsed face to his daughter’s and pressed his
lips to hers, then murmured solemnly:
“Darling, you will not be alone in the world as you said just now, and
as I have made you believe in my selfish anger. You have your mother!”
“Papa!” she gasped.
The fire roared and crackled over their heads; the beasts still fought
going down the ladder to safety, and the man close to them watched with
impatience for the father to make some effort to save his child.