Her instinct at once suggested to her how she should begin.  He should see that she on her side had entire confidence in him—­confidence as absolute as the child’s there who was sleeping before her.  And with a sickly smile upon her lips, she undressed and laid herself down beside little Gjert.

Upon deck Salve had wanted the night-glass, which was down in the cabin.  The look-out man had fancied that he had caught a glimpse for a moment of a light, in which case, against Salve’s calculations, they must be under Jutland.  His pride, however, would not allow him to send any one else to fetch the glass, and he couldn’t make up his mind to go down himself.  At last it became absolutely necessary, and he went hurriedly down the stair.

When he opened the cabin door he stood still for a moment in surprise, and looked about him.  He had expected to find Elizabeth sitting up, with the child on her lap, and looking frightened.  In place of that all was quiet, and the lamp was nearly out.  He strode on and took the glass from the wall; and after a couple of attempts, managed to light a match, in spite of the damp, and held it to the barometer.  He remained then standing with it in his hand, and listened to hear whether she was asleep or not.  Involuntarily he approached the berth, and looked into it.

“Elizabeth,” he whispered, softly, as if he was afraid of waking her.

“Is that you, Salve?” was the reply, in a perfectly calm voice.

“I thought you would be sitting up with the boy in this gale.  She rolls so; and I—­I haven’t been down to see you,” he said.

“I knew I had you on deck, Salve,” she replied.  “The rest we must only leave to God.  You have not had time to come down, poor fellow,” she added, “you have been so busy.”

“Elizabeth!” he exclaimed, with a sudden pang of passionate remorse, and reached over impetuously into the berth to embrace her with his wet clothes.

At that moment a crash was heard, accompanied by a violent trembling of the ship, and loud cries on deck.  Something had evidently given way.

With the same movement with which he had intended to embrace her, he lifted her quickly out of the berth, and told her to dress herself and the child, and come up to the top of the cabin stairs.  The words were hardly out of his mouth when the vessel heeled over, and didn’t right herself again.

“Fore-topmast gone, captain; rigging hanging!” bawled Nils Buvaagen down the stair.

Salve turned to her for a moment with a face full of mute, crushing self-reproach, and sprang up on deck.

“Keep her away, if she’ll answer her helm!” he shouted to the man at the wheel.  “To the axes, men!”