‘Ladies, I beg of you not to be alarmed. I can assure you there is not the slightest danger,’ commenced Captain Robarts; but an accident, which had its comical as well as its serious side, prevented the conclusion of his sentence. The benches on which the party had been seated were made of oak, with broad backs, fastened to the deck on either side with brass screws. Consequently, when the ladies scrambled on them, and stood as far back as they possibly could, with their skirts gathered in their hands, the whole of their weight was thrown on the supports. The oaken benches were strong, but the fastenings were not, and the unusual strain drew the screws from their hold, and caused the entire structure to give way. With piercing screams and exclamations, clutching at the fiddles and the tablecloths, and dragging the china and glass on the top of them, the men and women were precipitated backwards into the stream of water, where they lay in a confused heap, struggling and spluttering, but unable to extricate themselves. Their heads were against the doors and partitions of the private cabins, whilst their bodies rested on the seats of the benches, which were partly underneath them. The deplorable but ridiculous scene can better be imagined than described. Rolls, pats of butter, cold chickens, potatoes, and empty bottles of beer were floating about the cabin floor, whilst the dish-covers and glasses were mostly in their laps, or surging against their faces. The men could not move, any more than their fair companions, and whilst some swore and others sobbed with fright and humiliation, the cold salt water kept ‘swishing’ over them all. Captain Robarts, from his arm-chair of state, viewed the accident as an everyday occurrence, and awaited its termination with complacency, not offering the slightest assistance to any one. But Mr Coffin, with his mouth full of roast goose; and a wicked smile of amusement on his face, gallantly went to the rescue. Mrs Vansittart was the first saved from the deluge, with the colour considerably lessened in her honest, rosy face. Captain Lovell was next hauled out, but he made light of the affair, and burst into a loud laugh, which was instantly stopped by the aggrieved and indignant looks of Alice Leyton. ‘How can you laugh in that unfeeling way,’ she said, ‘when I feel bruised all over? But of course you’re not hurt yourself, and so it does not signify. Men are the most selfish creatures in the world.’ ‘By Jove! it’s spoilt my new suit, though, don’t you know?’ observed Mr Greenwood, looking the picture of misery, as he examined the state of his garments. ‘You did your best to burn us out of house and home the other day, Mr Greenwood,’ said the captain grimly, ‘so you mustn’t be surprised if no one sympathises with you over a ducking.’