I looked at the woman I loved, and self-reproach was in my soul, as I
saw a shudder go across her form. She was pale, but beyond a swift
look at me made no sign connecting me, either with the wreck or the
rescue. I think she had even then abandoned all hope of safety; and in
my own heart, such, also, was the rising conviction which I concealed.
Under the inborn habit of self-preservation, under the cultivated
habit of the well born, to show no fear and to use the resources of a
calm mind to the last in time of danger, we stood now, at least, in
some human equality. And again I lied and said, "There is no danger,"
though I could see the white rollers and could hear their roar on the
shore.
The night grew wilder. The great gulf storm had not yet reached its
climax, and none could tell what pitch of fury that might mean. The
dull jar of the boat as she time and again was flung down by the
waves, the shiver and creak and groan of the sturdy craft, told us
that the end might come at any instant, though now the anchor held
firm and our crawl on to the shoal had ceased. All around us was water
only four or five feet deep, but water whose waves were twice as high.
Once the final crash came, and it would be too late to launch a boat,
and all of us, overboard in that welter, were gone.
Silently, I stepped on deck once more, and motioned to Willy, the
deck-hand, to bring me the life preservers. "Put them on," I said to
Helena.
"Oh, I can't. I can't!" moaned the older woman. "I'm dying--let me
alone."
"Stop this nonsense, madam," said I sternly--knowing that was the only
way--"put it on at once. You too, Miss Emory, and you, my boys. Quick.
Then throw on loose wraps--all you can. It will be cold."
In spite of all my efforts to seem calm, the air of panic ran swiftly.
Mrs. Daniver awoke to swift action as she tremblingly fastened the
belt about her. Pushing past me, she reached the deck, and so mad was
she that in all likelihood she would have sprung overboard. I caught
at her, and though my clutch brought away little more than a handful
of false hair, it seemed to restore her reason though it destroyed her
coiffure. "Enough of this!" I cried to her. "Take your place by the
boat, and do as you are told." And I saw Helena pass forward, also, as
we all reached the deck, herself pale as a wraith, but with no outcry
and no spoken word. So, at last, I ranged them all near the boat that
swung ready at the davits.