“Hold,” he commanded, as he held aloft his lantern and his revolver pointed directly at the man who held one of the ropes.

“Out of there, every one of you—­out I say—­you first,” to a man just climbing in.

The stokers were not sailors—­the riff-raff of many ports they were; and now with them it was every man for himself.  This feeling without proper knowledge worked their undoing.  The ropes were released, one before the other, and the loaded boat bumped down the side of the vessel, one end dropping before the other, spilling the screaming, cursing men into the water.  Down the boat slid until one end touched the waves, the rope ends flying loosely so that they could not be reached by those on the deck.  A wave hit the boat as it hung and swamped it.

“My God,” exclaimed the captain, “two of our boats are lost.  There is only one more left.”

Chester Lawrence stood still and watched by the lantern’s light what was going on.  He pressed forward in time to hear Captain Brown’s remark about the boats.  Then together they crossed to the other side where that last boat hung ready to be filled.  And there was need for hurry now.  Slowly, but surely, the ship was sinking, and any moment might bring the final plunge.

“Load the boat,” shouted the Captain, “women first.”  The half dozen women found places.

“Where’s Lucy?” he enquired, looking around for Chester who had disappeared.  Lucy was not in the boat.  The Captain was sure she had not gotten away with the first boat.  Chester would bring her.

“Now, fill in,” was the order.  “Mr. Strong, where are you?  Is Mr. Strong here?” But he was not to be found.

One by one the few remaining passengers took their places, then the crew.

“Is there room for more?” asked the Captain of the officer in the boat.

“I fear not, sir,” came the reply.

“Some of the men get under the seats,” ordered the Captain.  “Now, then in with you men.  Don’t go yet.  There is yet a woman aboard.  Hold fast there, officer, until I find her.”  He rushed down the stairs with his lantern, calling for Chester.  “Where are you—­for God’s sake come quick!”

“Here I am sir,” replied Chester as he came nearly carrying his father.

“Where is Lucy?”

“Lucy is not coming, sir.  She does not need to—­she has gone already—­she—­”

“What?  What is it?  We need to hurry, my boy!”

“Lucy is dead!”

“Dead!—­Bring Mr. Strong along.  The boat is waiting.”

The boat hung by its davits, ready for lowering.

“We are full,” said the officer, “and the deck is cleared.  There is need for hurry, sir.”

“There is,” replied Captain Brown.  “Make room for two more.”

“We can’t do it sir—­not in this sea—­we are overcrowded now.”

“You must—­close up, lie down, make room.”

One of the officers offered to get out, then another did the same, but the captain would not hear.  “No,” he said, “you men have families.”