On the Patience there were many immigrants, only that afternoon released from Ellis Island. They had swarmed into the life-boats even before they were swung clear, and when the ship’s officers drove them off, the poor souls, not being able to understand, believed they were being sacrificed for the safety of the other passengers. So each was fighting, as he thought, for his life and for the lives of his wife and children. At the edge of the scrimmage I dragged out two women who had been knocked off their feet and who were in danger of being trampled. But neither was the woman I sought. In the half-darkness I saw one of the immigrants, a girl with a ‘kerchief on her head, struggling with her life-belt. A stoker, as he raced past, seized it and made for the rail. In my turn I took it from him, and he fought for it, shouting: “It’s every man for himself now!” “All right,” I said, for I was excited and angry, “look out for YOURSELF then!” I hit him on the chin, and he let go of the life-belt and dropped. I heard at my elbow a low, excited laugh, and a voice said: “Well bowled! You never learned that in an office.” I turned and saw the lovely lady. I tossed the immigrant girl her life-belt, and as though I had known Lady Moya all my life I took her by the hand and dragged her after me down the deck. “You come with me!” I commanded. I found that I was trembling and that a weight of anxiety of which I had not been conscious had been lifted. I found I was still holding her hand and pressing it in my own. “Thank God!” I said. “I thought I had lost you!” “Lost me!” repeated Lady Moya. But she made no comment. “I must find my brother,” she said. “You must come with me!” I ordered. “Go with Mr. Kinney to the lower deck. I will bring that rowboat under the stern. You will jump into it. “I cannot leave my brother!” said Lady Moya. Upon the word, as though shot from a cannon, the human whirlpool that was sweeping the deck amidships cast out Stumps and hurled him toward us. His sister gave a little cry of relief. Stumps recovered his balance and shook himself like a dog that has been in the water. “Thought I’d never get out of it alive!” he remarked complacently. In the darkness I could not see his face, but I was sure he was still vaguely smiling. “Worse than a foot-ball night!” he exclaimed; “worse than Mafeking night!” His sister pointed to the yawl. “This gentleman is going to bring that boat here and take us away in it,” she told him. “We had better go when we can!” “Right ho!” assented Stumps cheerfully. “How about Phil? He’s just behind me.” As he spoke, only a few yards from us a peevish voice pierced the tumult. “I tell you,” it cried, “you must find Lord Ivy! If Lord Ivy--” A voice with a strong and brutal American accent yelled in answer: “To hell with Lord Ivy!” Lady Moya chuckled. “Get to the lower deck!” I commanded. “I am going for the yawl.”