Then he went below to the passengers.  They were all seated in the main cabin, and looked anxiously at him as he entered.

“I am sorry to tell you, ladies,” he said quietly, “that the ship is leaking so badly that I fear we shall have to abandon her.  The men cannot keep on pumping much longer, now that we are three hands short.  Fortunately we have two good boats, and, if we must take to them, shall have no trouble in reaching land.”

They heard him in silence, then the old priest opened his state-room door, and came out.

“That is bad news indeed, captain,” he said gently.  “Still we must bow to God’s will, and trust to His guidance and protection.  And you and your officers and crew are good and brave seamen.”

“Thank you, father.  We’ll do all right if we have to take to the boats.  And you must try and cheer up the ladies.  Now I must leave you all for awhile.  We will stick to the pumps for another hour or two.”

“Captain,” said Sarah de Boos, a tall, finely built young woman of twenty, “let my sister and myself and our servant help the men at the pump. Do, please.  We are all three very strong, and our help is surely worth having.”

Robertson patted her soft cheek with his big, sunburnt hand.  “You are your father’s daughter, Sarah, and I thank you.  Of course your help would be something; three fine lusty young women”—­he tried to smile—­“but it’s too dangerous for you to be on deck.  All the bulwarks are gone, and nasty lumping seas come aboard every now and then.”

“I’m not afraid of a life-line hurting my waist,” was the prompt answer, “and neither is Sukie—­are you Sukie?  Go on deck, captain, and Sukie and I and Mina” (the servant) “will just kick off our boots and follow you.”

“And I too,” broke in old Father Roget.  “Surely I am not too old to help.”

In less than five minutes the two half-caste girls, the native woman Mina, and the old priest, were working the starboard brake, three seamen being on the lee side.  Every now and then, as the barque took a heavy roll to windward, the water would flood her deck up to the workers’ knees; but they stuck steadily to their task for half an hour, when they gave place to Burr, the carpenter, the Rev. Wilfrid, and three native seamen.

In the cabin Mrs. Lacy sat with ashen-hued face beside Miss Weidermann, their hands clasped together, and listening to the wild clamour of the wind and sea.  Presently the two De Boos girls, Lacy, Father Roget, and Mina, came below to rest awhile, the water streaming from their sodden garments.  The old priest, thoroughly exhausted, threw himself down upon the transom locker cushions.

“Wilfrid,” said Mrs. Lacy coming over to him and placing her shaking hand on his shoulder, “cannot I do something?  Oh, Miss De Boos, I wish I were brave, like you.  But I am not—­I am a coward, and I hate myself for it.”

The Rev. Wilfrid smiled tenderly at her as he drew her to him for a moment.  “Don’t worry, little woman.  You can’t do anything—­yes, you can, though!  Get me my pipe and fill it for me.  My hands are wet and cramped.”