She was apparently a vessel bound to some Indian or Australian port, and seemingly full of passengers, for even as I stood watching, the people in twos and threes arrived on the poop, or got upon the main-deck bulwark-rail to view us. She was a long iron ship, red beneath the water-line, and the bright streak of that colour glared out over the foam, dissolving at her sides like a flash of crimson sunset, as she rolled from us. Whenever she hove her stern up, gay with what might have passed as gilt quarter badges, I could read her name in long, white letters--"CARTHUSIAN, LONDON." "Yacht ahoy!" now came in a hearty tempestuous shout through the speaking trumpet, which the man I had before noticed lifted to his lips. "Halloa!" shouted Caudel in response. "What is wrong with you?" "Wessel's making water fast, and ye can see," shrieked Caudel, pointing at our wrecked and naked masts, "what our state is. The owner and a lady's aboard, and want to leave the yacht. Will you stand by till you can receive 'em, sir?" The man with the speaking trumpet lifted his hand in token of having heard, which somewhat astonished me, for though Caudel's lungs were very powerful and piercing, we were not only to leeward of the ship, but the wind, pouring dead on to us from her, was full of whistlings and yells, and the clamour of colliding and breaking seas. The man with the speaking trumpet appeared to consult with another figure that had drawn to his side. He then took a long look round at the weather, and afterwards put the tube again to his mouth. "Yacht ahoy!" "Halloa!" "We will stand by you; but we cannot launch a boat yet. Does the water gain rapidly upon you?" "We can keep her afloat for some hours, sir." The man again elevated his hand, and crossed to the weather side of his ship to signify, I presume, that there was nothing more to be said. "In two or three hours, sir, you and the lady'll be safe aboard," cried Caudel; "the wind's failing fast, and by that time the sea'll be flat enough for one of that craft's fine boats." I re-entered the cabin, and found Grace standing, supporting herself at the table. Her attitude was full of expectancy and fear. "What have they been crying out on deck, Herbert?" she exclaimed. "There is a big ship close beside us, darling," I answered; "the weather is fast moderating, and by noon I hope to have you safe on board of her." "On board of her!" she cried, with her eyes large with wonder and alarm. "Do you mean to leave the yacht?" "Yes; I have heart enough to tell you the truth now, Grace; she has sprung a leak and is taking in water rapidly, and we must abandon her." She dropped upon the locker with her hands clasped. "Do you tell me she is sinking, Herbert?" "We must abandon her," I cried; "put on your hat and jacket, my darling. The deck is comparatively safe now, and I wish the people on board the ship to see you."