I saw the men, as they looked at me, fall towards their appointed stations, like good men and true.  If she had not righted, they could have done very little there or anywhere but die—­not that it is little for a man to die at his post—­I mean they could have done nothing to save the passengers and themselves.  Happily, however, the violence of the shock with which we had so determinedly borne down direct on that fatal Iceberg, as if it had been our destination instead of our destruction, had so smashed and pounded the ship that she got off in this same instant and righted.  I did not want the carpenter to tell me she was filling and going down; I could see and hear that.  I gave Rames the word to lower the Long-boat and the Surf-boat, and I myself told off the men for each duty.  Not one hung back, or came before the other.  I now whispered to John Steadiman, “John, I stand at the gangway here, to see every soul on board safe over the side.  You shall have the next post of honour, and shall be the last but one to leave the ship.  Bring up the passengers, and range them behind me; and put what provision and water you can got at, in the boats.  Cast your eye for’ard, John, and you’ll see you have not a moment to lose.”

My noble fellows got the boats over the side as orderly as I ever saw boats lowered with any sea running, and, when they were launched, two or three of the nearest men in them as they held on, rising and falling with the swell, called out, looking up at me, “Captain Ravender, if anything goes wrong with us, and you are saved, remember we stood by you!”—­“We’ll all stand by one another ashore, yet, please God, my lads!” says I.  “Hold on bravely, and be tender with the women.”

The women were an example to us.  They trembled very much, but they were quiet and perfectly collected.  “Kiss me, Captain Ravender,” says Mrs. Atherfield, “and God in heaven bless you, you good man!” “My dear,” says I, “those words are better for me than a life-boat.”  I held her child in my arms till she was in the boat, and then kissed the child and handed her safe down.  I now said to the people in her, “You have got your freight, my lads, all but me, and I am not coming yet awhile.  Pull away from the ship, and keep off!”

That was the Long-boat.  Old Mr. Rarx was one of her complement, and he was the only passenger who had greatly misbehaved since the ship struck.  Others had been a little wild, which was not to be wondered at, and not very blamable; but, he had made a lamentation and uproar which it was dangerous for the people to hear, as there is always contagion in weakness and selfishness.  His incessant cry had been that he must not be separated from the child, that he couldn’t see the child, and that he and the child must go together.  He had even tried to wrest the child out of my arms, that he might keep her in his.  “Mr. Rarx,” said I to him when it came to that, “I have a loaded pistol in my pocket; and if you don’t stand out of the gangway, and keep perfectly quiet, I shall shoot you through the heart, if you have got one.”  Says he, “You won’t do murder, Captain Ravender!” “No, sir,” says I, “I won’t murder forty-four people to humour you, but I’ll shoot you to save them.”  After that he was quiet, and stood shivering a little way off, until I named him to go over the side.