Augusta caught sight of her friend’s face in the faint light “Bessie!  Bessie!  Lady Holmhurst!” she cried, “I have got the boy.  It is all right—­I have got the boy!”

She heard her, and waved her hand wildly towards her; and then the men in the boat gave way, and in a second it was out of earshot.  Just then a tall form seized Augusta by the arm.  She looked up:  it was Mr. Tombey, and she saw that in his other hand he held a revolver.

“Thank God!” he shouted in her ear, “I have found you!  This way—­this way, quick!” And he dragged her aft to where two sailors, standing by the davits that supported a small boat, were lowering her to the level of the bulwarks.

“Now then, women!” shouted an officer who was in charge of the operation.  Some men made a rush.

“Women first!  Women first!”

“I am in no hurry,” said Augusta, stepping forward with the trembling child in her arms; and her action for a few seconds produced a calming effect, for the men stopped.

“Come on!” said Mr. Tombey, stooping to lift her over the side, only to be nearly knocked down by a man who made a desperate effort to get into the boat.  It was Mr. Meeson, and, recognising him, Mr. Tombey dealt him a blow that sent him spinning back.

“A thousand pounds for a place!” he roared.  “Ten thousand pounds for a seat in a boat!” And once more he scrambled up at the bulwarks, trampling down a child as he did so, and was once more thrown back.

Mr. Tombey took Augusta and the child into his strong arms and put her into the boat.  As he did so, he kissed her forehead and murmured, “God bless you, good-bye!”

At that instant there was a loud report forward, and the stern of the vessel lifted perceptibly.  The bulkhead had given way, and there arose such a yell as surely was seldom heard before.  To Augusta’s ears it seemed to shape itself into the word “Sinking!”

Up from the bowels of the ship poured the firemen, the appearance of whose blackened faces, lined with white streaks of perspiration, added a new impulse of terror to the panic-stricken throng.  Aft they came, accompanied by a crowd of sailors and emigrants.

“Rush the boats,” sung out a voice with a strong Irish accent, “or sure we’ll be drowned!”

Taking the hint, the maddened mob burst towards the boats like a flood, blaspheming and shrieking as it came.  In a moment the women and children who were waiting to take to the boat, in which Augusta and the two sea-men were already, were swept aside, and a determined effort was made to rush it, headed by a great Irishman, the same who had called out.

Augusta saw Mr. Tombey, Lord Holmhurst, who had come up, and the officer lift their pistols, which exploded almost simultaneously, and the Irishman and another man pitched forward on to their hands and knees.

“Never mind the pistols, lads,” shouted a voice; “as well be shot as drown.  There isn’t room for half of us in the boats; come on!” And a second fearful rush was made, which bore the three gentlemen, firing as they went, right up against the nettings.