"Now, Miss Baird." Guided by Preston the girl entered the boat, in which were three lascars--one of them Mahmed, Peter's boy. "Where's Mostyn?" shouted the Acting Chief. "Partridge! Plover! Hurry up, now!" He called in vain. The two Watchers had already got clear of the ship. Mostyn was still vainly endeavouring to get the SOS message through. Meanwhile the Purser, the Chief Steward, and the remaining natives had lowered the last available boat. Preston was left alone on the boat-deck--a fact that was revealed to him when the next lightning-flash rent the sky. "Where's the Captain?" he shouted, hailing the boats lying a short distance away. "Anyone seen Captain Bullock?" By this time the water was washing over the well-deck. At any moment the _West Barbican_ might turn turtle. A voice from one of the boats replied: "Here!" "What's that?" bawled Preston. "All right," answered the voice. The Acting Chief was puzzled. It was not the Old Man's voice, but perhaps Captain Bullock had been injured. He had not seen the skipper since he left him on the bridge. Apparently the bridge was deserted. It looked untenable owing to the great list of the ship. A muffled explosion, as yet another bulkhead gave way under the pressure of water, warned Preston that it was time for him to go. It was his duty to take charge of the boat in which were the two women passengers. Leaping into the boat, Preston signed to Mahmed to help him with the after falls, at the same time shouting to the other two lascars to lower away handsomely. Although there was no one on deck to man the falls, it was a fairly easy matter to lower away the comparatively light boat with only six persons on board, the distance from the davit-heads to the water being only about ten feet, so deep had the ship settled. "Fend off!" ordered Preston, as he jerked the lever of the patent disengaging gear. Even as he spoke the heavy metal block of the lower after falls swung violently outwards. In the darkness the Acting Chief did not see the impending danger. The next instant the swaying lump of metal struck Preston full on the temple. Without a groan or a cry he pitched headlong upon the stern-sheet gratings. It was Mahmed who discovered the apparently lifeless form of the Chief Officer. He communicated his discovery to his compatriots, and an excited conversation ensued. Meanwhile the boat was drifting aimlessly at less than ten yards from the _West Barbican's_ port quarter. Until it occurred to the lascars--who were arguing on a question of precedence as to who should now give orders--that there was imminent danger of the boat being swamped by the suction of the foundering ship, they made no effort to man the oars. When about a hundred yards from the ship the lascars ceased rowing and resumed their argument.