“Perhaps it doesn’t matter. Try to get the first life-boat lowered. Let her carry as many extra hands as possible. We have lost two boats. But do not send any women in her. If all is well, let them go in the next one. Take charge of that yourself.” “Would you mind tying this handkerchief tightly just here, sir?” The second officer held out his left forearm. “Were you knifed, too?” asked Courtenay. “It is not much, but I am losing a good deal of blood.” “The brutes—the unreasoning brutes!” muttered the captain. As he knotted the linen into a rough tourniquet the other asked: “Shall I report to you when the first boat gets away, sir?” “No need. I shall see what happens. When she is clear I shall bring the ladies to you.” Pride of race helped these men to talk as collectedly as if the ship were laid alongside a Thames wharf. They knew not the instant the _Kansas_ might lift again and turn turtle, yet they did not dream of deviating a hair’s breadth from their duties. The second officer went aft to carry out the captain’s instructions. Courtenay followed a little way, passing to leeward of the chart-house, until he reached his own quarters. There was no door on that side, but light streamed through a couple of large port-holes across which the curtains had not been drawn. He looked in. Elsie was leaning against the table to balance herself on the sloping deck. She held Joey in her arms. She seemed to be talking to the dog, who answered in his own way, by trying to lick her face. The glass was so blurred that Courtenay could not see that she was crying. “Better wait,” he muttered, and turned his gaze seaward again. Yes, there could be no doubt that the almost unbroken swell within half a cable’s length of the ship promised a possibility of escape. There was no telling what dangers lay beyond. To his reckoning, the nearest land was twenty miles distant, but the shoal water might extend all the way, and, with a falling wind, waves once disintegrated would not regain any considerable size. It was a throw of the dice for life, but it must be taken. He indulged in a momentary thought as to his own course. Would he leave the ship in the last boat? Yes, if every wounded man on board were taken off first; and how could he entertain even a shred of hope that his cowardly crew would preserve such discipline to the end as to permit of that being done?