Part 36 (1/2)

”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 pa.s.sage, 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, G.o.d--where are you?”

She turned to dash along the pa.s.sage. As she did so the s.h.i.+p 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 s.h.i.+p, 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 s.h.i.+p.

”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 d.a.m.ned 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 s.h.i.+p, 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 pa.s.senger 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 pa.s.senger, 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 d.a.m.ned, 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 s.h.i.+p. 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.

CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT.