The solitary watcher realised instinctively that this time something was
wrong. So, too, did the residue of his fellow-passengers, for in an
incredibly short space of time they came swarming up from below in
various stages of dress and undress--mostly the latter--and many and
eager were the inquiries heard on every side, and anxiety was depicted
on every face; while on others there was a look which spelt downright
scare--these, too, by no means exclusively the property of the
ornamental sex.
There was some excuse for it; for to find oneself started out of one's
sleep by a jarring shock, to realise that the vessel is no longer
moving, to rush up on deck only to find her lying helpless on the black
midnight sea, the hurried gait and speech of officers and crew, to the
accompaniment of the hoarse roaring of the steam pipes--all this is well
calculated to try the nerves of the ordinary passenger; to conjure up
visions of collision, or running on a rock, and the swift and sudden
foundering with all hands.
"What is it? Are we ashore? Have we collided?" were some of the
questions uttered on every side, and from the more fearful: "Are we
going to the bottom?"
"Going to the bottom? Of course not," snapped the chief officer, who
had come up in time to catch this last query. "There's no cause for
alarm. The propeller shaft has snapped, and we shall have to lie to and
signal for assistance. Soon get it too; we're in the line of steamers.
Look! here goes the first."
The sharp hiss of a rocket rent the air as the fiery streak shot up high
into the heavens, exploding with a reverberating boom. It was followed
immediately by another.
"I came to tell you," he went on, "that the captain's orders are that
all the passengers go below. Wine and refreshments will be served in
the saloon immediately."
"Then we _are_ going to the bottom," pronounced one fool. Upon him the
"chief" turned.
"Grub would be a rum sort of preparation for that, wouldn't it?" he said
scathingly. And there was a laugh, though, truth to tell, somewhat of a
hollow one.
In the saloon the grateful popping of corks was already audible, and on
the tables the stewards were setting out bottles of champagne and
glasses, while others were bringing in the materials for a cold supper.
When well through this the ship's surgeon announced that those who were
not dressed had better get into all their clothing, and also collect any
valuables they might possess, but that absolutely no luggage of any kind
would be allowed. At the sound of the bugle all were to repair on deck.
No; there was no occasion for panic of any kind. Ample time would be
afforded--"only, of course, they mustn't make it till next week,"
appended the doctor, by way of raising a laugh.
"That means the boats," pronounced one man decidedly.
"Well, I'm for another go of `the boy,'" reaching over for the nearest
champagne bottle. "It may be long enough before we get another look
in."
"It's all that damned derelict," said another. "I'm not superstitious,
but I wish to the Lord we'd never sighted her. I said so this
afternoon."
"This afternoon? Why, it hasn't come yet," retorted the first. "Man,
you might as well have said to-morrow."
Again there was a laugh--not much of a one--but the more they could
laugh the better.
"Mr Wagram, I am dreadfully frightened," said Mrs Colville, to whose
wants he had been attending. "Is there really much danger, do you
think?"
"No. There's plenty of boat room--that's where we score off the
overcrowded mail steamer. Why, it'll be quite an adventure to look back
upon after we are picked up. Now, I think you had better collect
whatever you may want to take--valuables, papers, anything of that kind.
And, it's time to dress the child."
"Oh, that won't take a minute. I've let her sleep as long as possible.
For the rest, I've hardly anything worth collecting. But you? You
haven't been to bed, have you?"
"No; I was doing my usual midnight tramp on deck when the smash came.
Like yourself, I've nothing much to collect either."
She stole a look at him, and it was one of admiration--evoked not only
by the tall, straight form and dark, refined, pensive face. His
consummate coolness under the stress was what appealed to her now. Not
one among the others but had shown some slight sign of flurry, or at any
rate excitement beyond the ordinary. This one had not. Had they been
planning a trip on shore at some port of call his tone and demeanour
could hardly have been more even, more thoroughly composed.
"Are you a fatalist, Mr Wagram?" she said. "You treat all this as a
matter of course."
"I am no sort of `ist,'" he answered, with a smile. "Well--what?"
"Great heavens! I was forgetting," she said. "We won't be able to land
anywhere. The captain told me if we were to go ashore anywhere off here
we'd very likely be eaten--by savages. He was telling me only this
afternoon. Good heavens! what is to become of us?"
"The quarter you have just invoked twice will take care of that--never
fear. Now go and waken Lily. I'll wait for you here."
Hardly had she left him than the bugle rang out. Its notes, almost like
the trump of doom to some of the more frightened, came pealing down the
companion-way, and immediately the saloon was filled with a scuffling
crowd making for the upper air. Now more distant, in different quarters
of the ship, its blast sounded again and again. Still Wagram sat
motionless in his chair.
"Hallo! ain't you going up?" cried one of the last, thus seeing him.
"Man, but the bugle's gone again and again."
"I know it has," said Wagram calmly, finishing off his glass; "I'm
waiting for Mrs Colville."
The other went his way without another word. Wagram, thinking it about
time to hurry up his _protege_, started in the direction of her cabin,
and as he did so a pealing shriek of utter and complete despair brought
his pulses to a momentary standstill.
The while, on deck, the more or less scared passengers were quickly
lined up in rows--the women and children apart. They, for their part,
noticed two things: that the surface of the sea was much nearer than it
had been the last time they had stood here--in fact, appallingly near;
and that beside each boat stood its crew, just as they had seen them at
ordinary Saturday afternoon fire drill. A thick, sickly murk had
settled overhead, shutting out the stars--and by the glare of the
lanterns it might be seen that the ship was very low down in the stern
indeed. The roaring of the steam had now ceased, and the great funnels
towered above, white and ghostly. And now what had actually happened
began to be whispered around. The propeller rod had snapped, and in
snapping had fallen through the keel, ripping away plates, and tearing
open a tremendous leak, through which the water had rushed with alarming
rapidity. Then it was found that the watertight bulkheads were of no
use. The doors had somehow got jammed, and would not close. During all
the time that the coolness and forethought of the captain and officers
had utilised by sending the passengers below for some final refreshment
the ship had been slowly settling.
The expedient had been a good one. To that degree invigorated, the
passengers, lined up there, were less susceptible to panic, and the work
of loading the boats and lowering went on with clockwork regularity and
order.
That shriek had the effect upon Wagram of the lash on a racehorse. He
sprang in the direction whence it proceeded. Mrs Colville's cabin was
at the end of a long passage out of which other cabins opened, and now
he found her standing in the doorway of hers with an awful look upon her
ashy face.
"Lily. My little one. She's gone!" she screamed at sight of him.
"Gone?"
"Yes. She isn't here. Oh, God! Oh, God! Where is she?"
"Keep cool. We'll find her," urged Wagram. "She may be on deck. Go up
there and see. I'll search here meanwhile."
But the frantic woman refused. She dashed into each cabin along the
passage, searching everywhere, screaming aloud the little one's name.
"Go up--go up," repeated Wagram. "I'll bring her to you if she's below,
but she can't be."
The noise above--the trampling and the hauling--increased. The lowering
of the boats had already begun.
"I won't," she screamed. "Oh, my Lily--my little one! Where are you?
Oh, God--where are you?"
She turned to dash along the passage. As she did so the ship gave a
sudden lurch, flinging open a cabin door with some violence. It came in
full contact with the forehead of the frenzied woman, and sent her
stunned into Wagram's arms.
"Better so," he said to himself as he lifted her.
The last boat was lowered and ready--in the settling state of the ship,
not far below her taffrail. As she lay alongside a man rushed up from
the companion-way bearing a limp, unconscious figure.
"It's Mrs Colville," said Wagram quickly as he handed over his burden.
"Her child's lost below; I'm going to look for it."
"Into the boat with you, sir," ordered the captain decisively. "Not a
moment to lose."
But Wagram's answer was to make a dart for the companion-way. He
disappeared within it.
"Shove off!" cried the captain. "I'm not going to sacrifice a lot of
lives for that of one splendid fool. Shove off!"
"Ay, ay, sir." And at the words, with sudden and cat-like rapidity, two
of the boat's crew sprang upon the captain, who was standing at the
rail, and in a trice he was tumbled into the boat, and still securely
held while quick, long pulling strokes increased her distance from the
sinking ship.
"No, you don't, sir," said the men, restraining with difficulty their
commander's furious struggles. "The old hooker can go down without you
for once. Get back to her? No, you don't. For shame, sir. You've got
a missis and kiddies waiting at Southampton, remember."
The captain fumed and swore, and called them every kind of damned
mutineer, and worse--in fact, a great deal worse--so much worse that
they had to remind him respectfully that the boats containing the women
and children must be within easy earshot. Why should he go down with
his ship, they pointed out to him, instead of remaining above water to
command another? Not the last man to leave her did he say? Well, that
couldn't be helped--if a passenger were such a lunatic as to go below
just as she was taking her last plunge.
There was no bombast about Captain Lawes' intention. While there was a
man on board he would not have left her, and in this case he would not
have, even though that man, being a passenger, had ignored his
authority. But his crew had taken the matter into their own hands.
The steamy sea murk was thickening, and came rolling in from seaward in
damp, hot miasmatic puffs. But the settling hull of the _Baleka_ was
still discernible with tolerable plainness. To her many a hail was sent
_but--front_ her, to their straining ears, none was returned.
"I think, sir," said young Ransome, the fourth officer, slyly, "that I
didn't quite deserve all you--well, all I got for saying that infernal
_Red Derelict_ was unlucky to sight."
"You damned, impudent, mutinous young dog!" growled the exasperated and
captive skipper. "Shut your blasted head. As it is, I'll log you for
mutiny and insubordination and general incompetence. I'll bust you, out
of this service at any rate. See if I don't, my man."
The fourth grinned to himself, and said nothing. He was not greatly
concerned. He knew his skipper well enough, you see.
"She's goin'! There she goes!" sang out one of the men.
All eyes were bent on the ship. Her row of lights gave a great heave
up, then rapidly disappeared. A heavy, booming cavernous plunge, and
then a great volume of white water shot upward in the dimness.
The _Baleka_ had disappeared; but the lives of those on board her were
saved so far--all but one.
All but one, we repeat, for the other life which that one had been
sacrificed to save was safe too, for at that moment the missing child
was being transferred from the boat into which it had been handed in the
scurry to the one which contained its still unconscious mother.