But over the side of the vessel the men scrambled with fierce cries and imprecations, paying no heed either to his commands or pleadings. They swarmed into the boats, fighting for places like wild animals. The frail barks went down to the water loaded until the gunwales were lapped by the smallest waves. The skipper turned to Colonel Owen. “The dingey is left, sir,” he said. “If you will help me to defend it from the rest of these brutes, we may be able to get these girls into it.” “I will do my utmost,” rejoined the colonel. “Harriet, do you and Peggy stand behind me. When the boat is lowered be ready to get into it as soon as the captain speaks.” Colonel Owen faced the few remaining men with drawn pistols as the boat was let down. The first mate took his place, and stood ready to receive the maidens. “Go, Harriet,” said her father. But to Peggy’s amazement her cousin turned to her, crying, “You first, Peggy! You first!” “But,” cried Peggy her heart flooded with sudden warmth at this unlooked-for solicitude, “I cannot leave thee, Harriet. I——” “Stop that nonsense!” exclaimed Colonel Owen gruffly. “We have no time for it. Get into the boat at once.” Without further comment Peggy permitted herself to be handed down into the boat, and as she reached it in safety she looked expectantly up for Harriet to follow. At that moment came a hoarse cry from the skipper. “Cast off, Mr. Davy! Cast off! You’ll be swamped.” The mate pulled away just as half a dozen frantic seamen leaped from the deck toward the boat. The swirl of the waters caught it, turning it round and round by the force. With a great effort he succeeded in sending it out of the eddy just in time to avoid being drawn under by the drowning seamen. Again making a strenuous effort to get beyond their reach he sent the dingey scudding to westward, was caught by a current, and carried further away from the vessel. “What is it?” asked Peggy as she caught a glimpse of his whitening face. “God help them,” broke from him. “We are caught in the current and can’t get back to the ‘Falcon.’” [Illustration: THE DINGEY WAS CAUGHT BY A CURRENT] CHAPTER XXVII—A HAVEN AFTER THE STORM “Safe through the war her course the vessel steers, The haven gained, the pilot drops his fears.” —Shirley. “We must,” burst from Peggy, springing up wildly. “Oh, friend, can’t thee do something? We must not leave them.” “Sit still,” commanded the mate sharply. “Why, look you! We can’t even see the ‘Falcon’ for the fog.” It was true. Already the hapless “Falcon” had been swallowed up by the dense veil of vapor. It was as if the doomed vessel had been cut off from all the open sea, and its fate hidden in the clinging curtain of black obscurity.