Vogel stood up promptly. Meade got more slowly to his feet. "It doesn't
seem real," he said to Cadogan; "so quiet! Do men die so easily?"
Without waiting to hear the answer he walked after Crupp and Vogel.
Lavis had not moved from his transom seat. Cadogan walked half-way to
the door and returned. "You set me thinking to-night, Mr. Lavis, but I
see now that it is you the Eternal Verities should select to go down
into the depths."
"No, no! Never immortality for me. I had my chance. I threw it away. I
was dedicated to a sacred calling, Mr. Cadogan. I had almost achieved
the heights, when I--fell. I sinned not only in body, but in spirit. To
sin in body is to scorch the soul; but to sin in spirit is to consume
the soul. Mine is but ashes. Yours is still a burning flame. And--but
there is somebody at the door, I think, who wishes to speak to you."
It was a man in a steward's uniform. As Cadogan reached the door, the
man retreated to the shadows of the deck. Cadogan followed. It was
Hames, with a square envelope in his hand. "Miss Huttle, Mr. Cadogan,"
he whispered, "said I was to give you this. When there was nobody
about, she said, sir. I've been trying ever since, sir, to find you
alone."
Cadogan stepped to the light of a smoking-room air-port, held the sheet
close up to the glass, and read:
It was all a mistake after dinner to-night. I will explain when
next we meet--if ever we do meet. But you must see that we do meet.
You must. The passengers do not know, even you may not know, but it
is true--the ship is going to sink. I am frightened--dreadful
thoughts--if you were only near!
You must save yourself. You can, if you will. You can do the
impossible. You have done it before in play. Do it to-night for the
woman who loves you.
I know you will never go into the boats, but after they are gone,
when you can no longer help another, I ask you to save
yourself--save yourself not for yourself, but for me.
A woman who loves--remember you said it yourself--hers is the call
that no man has the choice of refusing. A woman who loves you and
whose love is all for you, will be calling calling, calling, as you
read this, from out on the dark sea.
Come, come, come, O Beloved, to me at the last. If you do not come,
I shall believe always that you did not care. But I know you will
come to me. HELEN.
Cadogan stared at the sea about him, at the sky above him. He rubbed his
forehead. "'Come, come, oh, come!'" he murmured. He drove his clinched
fist against the air-port. "I'll come! I'll come!"
"Mr. Cadogan?" It was the steward.
"What is it?"
"There's queer talk going about between decks, sir. There will be
desp'rate work doing to-night, if what they say is true, sir. I've a
family in Southampton, sir, and I always tried to do my duty, sir."
"I never knew a better steward, Hames. Listen."
"'K you, sir. Yes, sir?"
"On the boat deck for'ard, port side--get that right now."
"Port side for'ard, sir. Yes, sir. Believe me, sir, I won't forget such
directions as you are pleased to give, sir."
"There's a collapsible life-boat there under a tarpaulin. Somebody is
saving that for the finish--for a favored few."
"I believe you, sir."
"Stand by it, and when they launch it jump on."
"But they will have spanners and wrenches, and such weapons, sir."
"They surely will. In the steamer trunk in my room you will find a
magazine pistol."
"Yes, sir. 'K you, sir."
"But you must hurt nobody, mind, except those who try to hurt you."
"I'll promise, sir. An' I'll remember also I 'ave a missus an' three
kiddies in Southampton, sir."
"And don't forget you have them, either."
"No, sir. 'K you, sir. But I never 'andled a magazine one. Any
complications, sir?"
"Not many. You find the trigger, curl your finger around it, put the
muzzle to the man's head who means you harm, and, if he persists, pull
the trigger. It's very simple."
"Quite so, sir."
"Good luck to you. And don't forget--you keep pressing the trigger as
long as you want to keep shooting. And--how old are the kiddies?"
"Five, and three, and the baby, one. A grand little chap, the baby,
sir."
"Is he now? Isn't that fine!" Cadogan drew from his hip-pocket the
wallet with the packet of bills. "Put this in the bank--for the kiddies
and missus."
"It's a hawful kindness to 'em, sir."
"All right. Good luck to you."
"Good luck to you, I s'y, sir." He vanished.
V
From his seat on the transom, Lavis had caught sight of the face of
Cadogan as he read the sheet of paper held up to the air-port. His chin
came down on his chest, remained there a moment, and then he stood up
and slowly went out on deck, by way of the door opposite to that which
Cadogan had taken.
The passengers were gathering thickly on the top deck. There was now no
restriction, ship's people having ceased their supervision, and many
steerage passengers were crowding up to join first and second class on
the higher decks.
"In the last death plunge," mused Lavis, "steerage may go first, if so
be it pleases them."
He made out a couple standing hand in hand like children. He knew them,
the couple from second cabin, and of the faith of the prophets of old.
"For why should I go in der boads, Simon?" the woman was saying. "No,
no, mein husband. Fifty yahres together we hafe been now. Together we
shell go now also."
"Surely God will welcome thee," murmured Lavis, and touched their
clasped hands in passing.
He halted. A young man was staring out on the wide sea. Lavis remembered
the bride and groom who had been so rapturously gazing out on the sea
together before the collision. This was the groom, and he was speaking
to another young man who was treading the deck restlessly, four paces
one way, four paces back. "They said there was a lantern in the boat she
was put in. I think I see it--a small light."
"Do you?"--the restless one halted--"I don't. How long were you
married?"
"Four months."
"Oh-h! We were only ten weeks." With short, quick steps he resumed his
striding.
Lavis leaned beside the young man at the rail. "I think I see the light
you were looking for--there." He pointed.
"Yes, yes--that's it. See here!" He turned to address the pacing man.
"Why, he's gone!" He peered into Lavis's face. "There were ten of us,
you see, with our wives, returning from our wedding trips. We were going
to have a supper together when we reached New York."
"But you are not afraid?"
"I am. And I wish I could have gone in the boat too. But look there!" He
pointed to the hundreds of steerage passengers who were still crowded
together three decks below. "What chance did they give those women
to-night? what chance do they ever get? And my old mother came over
steerage. And she is still alive. And she would stand me up before her
and she'd say--I know how she would say it: 'Dannie, boy, do you tell me
you came away from a sinking ship, and women and children behind you?'"
"But you are not sorry?"
"God, man, no! But only the night before last my wife all at once came
close to me and said: 'Dannie, we're going to have a little baby.' And
nothing more for a long time, me holding her. And then she whispers:
'And I hope he'll be a boy, and grow up to be a man like you, Dannie,'
she said.
"And God help me! Already I had him grown up and was taking him out to
see the Giants play."
"God help us all!" said Lavis; and gripped the other's hand swiftly, and
passed on to the lowest open deck, where, by way of the long gangway, he
might reach the after end of the ship. Already the deck was taking on a
more noticeable forward slant. He saw a man lashing together some
chairs. He paused long enough to see that it was Cadogan, but, without
discovering himself, he passed on to where an isolated man in dungarees
leaned with folded arms across the rail.
It was Andie, with his chin resting on his arms, and his face turned
toward the placid sea. Once he lifted his head to gaze up at the sky.