The sea is
calm; if it is not left till too late there should be no difficulty in
launching them."
The man stared at him absently, then said:
"They won't hold everybody, Mr. Seymour. I hope to beach her."
"At least they will hold some," he answered, "whereas----" And he
pointed to the water, which by now was almost level with the deck.
"Perhaps you are right, Mr. Seymour. It doesn't matter to me, anyway. I
am a ruined man; but the poor passengers--the poor passengers!" And he
scrambled away fiercely towards the bridge like a wounded cat along
the bough of a tree, whence in a few seconds Robert heard him shouting
orders.
A minute or so afterwards the steamer stopped. Too late the captain
had decided to sacrifice his ship and save those she carried. They were
beginning to get out the boats. Now Robert returned to the cabin where
Benita was lying senseless, and wrapped her up in a cloak and some
blankets. Then, seeing the second lifebelt on the floor, by an
afterthought he put it on, knowing that there was time to spare. Next he
lifted Benita, and feeling sure that the rush would be for the starboard
side, on which the boats were quite near the water, carried her, with
difficulty, for the slope was steep, to the port-cutter, which he knew
would be in the charge of a good man, the second officer, whom he had
seen in command there at Sunday boat-drills.
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