Men do not often lie in the very presence of death, and truth spoke in the younger man's voice,--truth so clear that it pierced the tortured soul of the jealous, mad, broken sailor. But, like many another man convinced against his will, he refused to accept these statements. It was a device, a cunning attempt to stay his hand and gain a life. He would not heed. "I don't believe you, damn you!" he said, kicking furiously at the stanchion. The last blow loosened it. Under the tremendous pressure from above, the stick began slowly, very slowly, to slide on its wooden shoe. Its motion was scarcely perceptible, yet it moved. Barry released his hold on it, took a single backward step, and Revere rose to his feet. Barry instantly grappled him with both hands. Revere was as a child in that iron grasp. He did not struggle. He would preserve his dignity in the face of death, and to attempt to escape would have been futile, anyway. The two faces confronted one another, the sailor's convulsed with anguish and rage, the officer's pale, but smiling a little; both equally determined. Forward and aft the rotten or sawed supports were giving way in quick succession. Above them the ship was trembling and shivering from stem to stern. A strange creaking was heard. A moaning cry, swelling into a deep groan of anguish that had a sound of despair unspeakable in it. The death-song of the ship! It was coming down on the ways! Moving toward the water at last! Fascinated, Revere turned his face upward and watched the shivering frame above his head, murmuring, as he did so, Emily's name. The huge bulk seemed to rise in the air for a second. To his distorted vision it appeared to sway back and forth, up and down, yet it had scarcely begun to move. Ah! was it upon them? It all happened in a few seconds. In another it would be over. Revere closed his eyes. At that instant a scream fraught with terrible agony broke upon the ears of the two men. "The ship is falling!" cried Emily's voice, high-pitched, shrill with mortal terror. "Richard! What are you doing? Oh, God! Captain Barry, save him!" "Would that she might have been spared this!" flashed into Revere's mind. He would have called to her had not something happened instantly. The voice awakened the dormant reason in the old man's being. She loved this boy; perhaps he had told the truth. "Save him! save him!" The words rang in his ears. He had never disobeyed a command of hers. He would not now. Too late! There was a terrible grating sound; the last stanchion was grinding in its wooden shoe; it was sliding faster! In another moment the ship would be upon them! He had turned his head as the first cry had met his ear, and had seen in one swift glance Emily and another woman not a hundred feet away. Emily was bending forward, her hands outstretched, struggling. She would have run to them under the ship had not the other woman held her firmly, protectingly. Both girls were white as death.