“I have got him, Lord Holmhurst,” she cried; “the nurse has run away.  Where is your wife?”

“Bless you,” he said fervently; “you are a good girl.  Bessie is aft somewhere:  I would not let her come.  They are trying to keep the people off the boats—­they are all mad!”

“Are we sinking?” she asked faintly.

“God knows—­ah! here is the captain,” pointing to a man who was walking, or rather pushing his way, rapidly towards them through the maddened, screeching mob.  Lord Holmhurst caught him by the arm.

“Let me go,” he said roughly, trying to shake himself loose.  “Oh! it is you, Lord Holmhurst.”

“Yes; step in here for one second and tell us the worst.  Speak up, man, and let us know all!”

“Very well, Lord Holmhurst, I will.  We have run down a whaler of about five hundred tons, which was cruising along under reduced canvas and showing no lights.  Our fore compartment is stove right in, bulging out the plates on each side of the cut-water, and loosening the fore bulkhead.  The carpenter and his mates are doing their best to shore it up from the inside with balks of timber, but the water is coming in like a mill race, and I fear there are other injuries.  All the pumps are at work, but there’s a deal of water, and if the bulkhead goes”—­

“We shall go, too,” said Lord Holmhurst, calmly.  “Well, we must take to the boats.  Is that all?”

“In Heaven’s name, is that not enough!” said the captain, looking up, so that the light that was fixed in the companion threw his ghastly face into bold relief.  “No, Lord Holmhurst, it is not all.  The boats will hold something over three hundred people.  There are about one thousand souls aboard the Kangaroo, of whom more than three hundred are women and children.”

“Therefore the men must drown,” said Lord Holmhurst, quietly.  “God’s will be done!”

“Your Lordship will, of course, take a place in the boats?” said the captain, hurriedly.  “I have ordered them to be prepared, and, fortunately, day is breaking.  I rely upon you to explain matters to the owners if you escape, and clear my character.  The boats must make for Kerguelen Land.  It is about seventy miles to the eastward.”

“You must give your message to someone else, captain,” was the answer; “I shall stay and share the fate of the other men.”

There was no pomposity about Lord Holmhurst now—­all that had gone—­and nothing but the simple gallant nature of the English gentleman remained.

“No, no,” said the captain, as they hurried aft, pushing their way through the fear-distracted crowd.  “Have you got your revolver?”

“Yes.”

“Well, then, keep it handy; you may have to use it presently:  they will try and rush the boats.”

By this time the grey dawn was slowly breaking, throwing a cold and ghastly light upon the hideous scene of terror.  Round about the boats were gathered the officers and some of the crew, doing their best to prepare them for lowering.  Indeed, one had already been got away.  In it was Lady Holmhurst, who had been thrown there against her will, shrieking for her child and husband, and about a score of women and children, together with half-a-dozen sailors and an officer.