All this time Olive had done what lay in her power to render Mrs. Shallop's plight less painful. She was in utter ignorance of the accident that had befallen the luckless Acting Chief Officer, although she was rather puzzled at the lack of discipline displayed by the lascars, and the fact that the officer in charge of the boat made no attempt to check the dispute. Another vivid sheet of lightning illumined the scene, but Olive was not looking into the boat. Her attention was attracted by the sight of two men standing on the listing bridge of the ill-fated _West Barbican_. The glare was of sufficient duration to enable her to distinguish Captain Bullock and Mostyn. She saw the former raise his hand and beckon the boat to pull clear. He was shouting something, but in the turmoil the words were indistinguishable. The long-drawn lightning flash ended, leaving the girl blinking in Stygian darkness. "There's Captain Bullock and Mostyn still on board, Mr. Preston," she exclaimed, in anxious tones. "Can't we put back to fetch them?" There was no reply. In a louder tone Olive repeated the question of entreaty. Still there was no answer. The lascar bowman resumed his oar, pulling the boat's head round. Finding his companion idle he prodded him in the back with his foot, with the result that the man gave a few desultory strokes. In the utter darkness the lascars had lost all sense of direction, and, instead of pulling away from the ship, they were slightly closing with her. Suddenly a hissing sound rent the air. It was the ship plunging beneath the waves. The boat, caught by the turmoil of the tempestuous seas, was thrown about like a cork. One of the men was hurled off the thwart by the loom of his oar striking him in the face. The oar was swept from his grasp and lost overboard. To Olive, crouching on the bottom-boards, it seemed as if the boat were being lifted vertically. The movement reminded her of the sudden and unexpected starting of a lift. Then, heeling terribly, the boat dipped her gunwale under, and a cascade poured into her until Olive was sitting waist deep in water. Her first act was to raise Mrs. Shallop's head. The shock of the water had caused that lady partly to recover consciousness. She was moaning and coughing. The violent motion lasted for quite a minute, then the maelstrom subsided, and the partly waterlogged boat bobbed sluggishly on the waves. The lascars, now roused to activity, were baling furiously with their hands, since in the darkness it was impossible to find the baler which was supposed to be in the boat. "Mr. Preston!" exclaimed Olive once more. "Preston Sahib he dead man," was Mahmed's startling announcement, although the words were delivered with the imperturbability of the Asiatic.