The decks were deserted, and he saw no signs of life on the ship. It was as if he had been abandoned, and but for the many craft near at hand he might have had a very disagreeable sensation of utter loneliness. As a matter of fact, something much like a shudder of fear came over him with the first knowledge that he was alone; but he forced it back with a laugh as he said aloud: “If people could know that I’m almost afraid of being here, even though there are an hundred men within hail, I wouldn’t need to bother my head about being called a hero when I don’t deserve the name.” As he ceased speaking an odd, indistinct murmur came from the dark hold, causing him to step back toward the rail quickly; but he advanced again an instant later, angry with himself for being such a coward. Once more came that strange noise; but, half-expecting it, Benny held his ground, determined to learn the cause, since, until Sam Hardy should return, he had nothing better with which to occupy himself. Leaning over the hatch he peered down into the darkness. The space between decks was apparently empty, and he heard the water gurgling far below in the lower hold. “That must be what I heard,” he said, speaking aloud, and the words had no more than been uttered when it seemed as if amid the gurgling noise he could distinguish his own name. “Ahoy!” he cried, smiling to think he should be so foolish as to answer the water; but an instant later his face grew pale as he heard plainly the words: “Benny! Benny Foster!” There was but one in the vicinity who would thus address him, and although it seemed impossible Sam Hardy could be in that apparently empty hold, he leaned far over as he shouted: “Is that you, Mr. Hardy?” “Ay, lad, come quick! I can’t hold out much longer!” Now Benny was alarmed, and with good cause. Leading down to the second deck was a single stanchion; the ladder had been torn or carried away. Heeled over as the steamer was, this timber stood at an inclination of forty-five degrees, and at its foot the deck had about the same inclination in the opposite direction. Benny waited only so long as was necessary in order to throw off his pea-jacket, and then slipped down the stanchion, holding hard on reaching the deck below lest he should slide to port. Here all was darkness, save for the square of gray light that marked the location of the hatch, and the lad tried in vain to pierce it with his eyes in search for the surfman. “Where are you, Mr. Hardy?” he cried falteringly. “I can’t make out anything.” “Hanging by a rope below the second hatchway. It swings so far to port that I can’t pull myself up, and I don’t dare to drop for fear the distance may be too great. Lean over and try to get hold of me, lad; I only need a little aid, for it is possible to help myself a good bit.”