Saltash flung himself forward again, his free hand outstretched, slipped and nearly fell on his face, then was caught by a vice-like grip that drew him upward with grim strength.  In a moment he was braced against the frame of the door, almost standing on it, the saloon gaping below him—­a black pit of destruction.  Larpent’s torch showed the companion stairs practically perpendicular above them.

“Go on!” said Larpent.  “Better give me the child.  It’s you that matters.”

“Get out, damn you!” said Saltash, and actually grinned as he began to climb with his burden still hanging upon his shoulder.

Larpent came behind him, holding his torch to light the way.  They climbed up into a pandemonium indescribable, a wild torrent of sound.

There was light here that shone in a great flare through billows of fog, showing the monster form of a great vessel towering above them with only a few yards of mist-wreathed water between.  The deck on which they stood sloped upwards at an acute angle, and still from below there came the clamour of escaping steam accompanied by a spasmodic throbbing that was like the futile beating of giant wings against Titanic bars.

A knot of men were struggling to lower a boat by the ghostly glare that lit the night about them, clambering and slipping against the rails, while a voice from beyond the fog-curtain yelled through a megaphone unintelligible commands.

All these things were registered upon Saltash’s brain, his quick perception leaping from point to point with a mental agility that was wholly outside all conscious volition on his part.  He was driven by circumstance as a bird is driven by storm, and he went before it undismayed, missing no chance of refuge.

A life-buoy hanging beside the hatch caught his eye as he glanced swiftly around and in a second he pounced upon it.  Toby slipped from his shoulder as he bent, and slipping awoke.  But he only lay and stared with dazed eyes at the man frantically unlashing the rope, as one who looked on from afar.

Then Larpent was with them again.  He dragged Toby to his feet, and in a flash Saltash turned, the life-buoy on his arm.

“What the devil are you doing?”

Larpent pointed.  “They’ve got the boat free.  Go—­while you can!”

But Saltash barely glanced across.  He put the life-buoy over Toby’s head and shoulders, and began to wind the rope around him.  It did not need a glance to know that the boat would never get away.

At his action Toby gasped, and sudden understanding awoke in his eyes.  He dragged one arm free, and made as if he would cling to Saltash.

“Keep me with you, sir!” he cried out wildly.  “Don’t make me go alone!”

Saltash gripped the clutching hand, dropping the end of rope.  It trailed down, and Larpent caught it, flung it round Saltash’s body, and knotted it while he was lifting Toby over the rail.