The life-boats
crept closer, still closer. Then, out from the silent hulk, came
the voice of man. It was the voice of the First Officer, hoarse
and unrecognizable, but sharp with authority. Other voices repeated
the commands from various parts of the ship,--commands to the
encircling will-o'-the-wisps.
The word came down to the scores who filled the boats that they
were to lie by until sunrise, keeping in close contact with each
other and at no great distance from the ship. The most thorough,
careful examination of the steamer was in progress. If it was found
that she was in no danger of foundering,--and the word was most
reassuring,--all of them would be taken aboard in the morning.
Nothing could be done at present. A few hours more would tell the
tale.
And then, for the first time since the disaster, the note of
the croaker was heard. Each and every boat contained at least one
individual who knew exactly what ought to be done in a crisis like
this.
Mr. Landover addressed the benumbed, unresisting occupants of the
boat into which he had climbed with commendable reluctance as one
of the last persons to leave the ship.
"Why don't they begin sending out S.
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