Social problems -- Fiction; War stories; World War, 1914-1918 -- Fiction
“Women first!” was the cry; but the women would not go until the
wounded had been taken, and this occasioned delay. Jimmie helped to
get his friend the “wobbly”, and passed him on to be lowered with a
rope. By that time the deck had got such a slant that it was hard to
walk on it; the bow was settling, and the stern rearing up in the
air. Never could you have realized the size of an ocean-liner, until
you saw it rear itself up like a monstrous mountain, preparatory to
plunging beneath the waves! “Jump for it!” shouted voices. “They'll
pick you up from the other vessels. Jump and swim.”
So Jimmie rushed to the rail. He saw a life-boat below, trying to
push away, and being beaten against the vessel by the heavy waves.
He heard a horrible scream, and saw a man slip between the boat and
the side of the liner. People on every side of him were jumping--so
many that he could not find a clear spot in the water. But at last
he saw one, and climbed upon the rail and took the plunge.
He struck the icy water and sank, and a wave rolled over him. He
came up quickly, owing to his life-preserver, and gasped for breath,
and was choked by another rushing wave and then pounded on the head
by an oar in the hands of a struggling sailor. He managed to get out
of the way, and struck out to get clear of the vessel. He knew how
to do this, thanks to many “swimmin'-holes”--including the one he
had visited with the Candidate. But he had never before swam in such
deadly cold as this; it was colder than he had dreamed when he had
talked about it with Comrade Meissner! Its icy hand seemed to smite
him, to smite the life out of him; he struggled desperately, as one
struggles against suffocation.
The waves beat him here and there; and then suddenly he was seized
as if by the falls of Niagara, drawn along and drawn under--down,
down. He thought it was the end, and when again he bobbed up to the
surface, his breath was all but gone. The great bulk of the vessel
was no longer in sight, and Jimmie was struggling in a whirlpool,
along with upset boats and oars and deck-chairs and miscellaneous
wreckage, and scores of people clinging to such objects, or swimming
frantically to reach them.
Jimmie was just about ready to roll over and let his face go under,
when suddenly there loomed above him on the top of a wave a boat
rowed swiftly by sailors. One in the boat flung a rope to him, and
he tried to catch it, but missed; the boat plunged towards him, and
an arm reached out, and caught him by the collar. It was a strong
and comforting arm, and Jimmie abandoned himself to it, and
remembered nothing more for a long time.
VI
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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