Though her skirts were troublesome, she managed the ascent. Then she
was taken off her feet again, and hardly knew where she was until she
found herself in the haven of Courtenay's cabin. Joey was glad to be
there, too. He shook himself noisily in his heavy coat.
"You won't mind if I fasten the door on you?" and the captain so far
forgot his anxiety as to smile.
"No, indeed," and she smiled in response.
"Very well. I shall bring Miss Baring in about five minutes. You
won't stir till we come?"
"What? Face that gale without you?" She almost laughed at the idea.
He bolted the door, and he ran into the chart-house to tap the
barometer. It moved appreciably. It was rising! Ah, if only the wind
moderated, he could save the Kansas yet! He glanced at the compass.
Still the same course. Not a fraction of a point gained to the north.
That was bad. The ship was already within the danger zone. Pray
Heaven for a falling wind, or even a change to the southward! Still,
it was in an altogether more cheerful mood that he regained the
promenade deck and made his way towards the saloon.
He was in the very act of entering the doorway when a shudder ran
through the ship, and she lifted slightly. Clinging to a rail, he
waited, rigid as a statue. A second time the great steel hull shook,
but much more violently. Then the Kansas ran her nose into a shoal,
swung round broadside to the sea, lifted again, struck heavily, and
listed to port.
Courtenay was on the starboard side. He heard a yell of dismay from
the men attending to the boats. Screams came from the saloon. The sea
leaped triumphantly over the rails and nearly smothered him with its
dense spray. So this was the end? It had come all too soon. And what
a place for the ship to be cast away! Twenty miles from the nearest
land, in the midst of a sea where no boat could live. God help them
all!