She was leaning against the mizen shrouds, between the coils of
rope. Nobody appeared to notice her, although the quarter-deck was
fast filling with persons driven back by the fire, yet still
shrinking from the terror and uncertainty of the sea. She
thought: "It is but death--why should I fear? The waves are at
hand, to save me from all suffering." And the collective horror of
hundreds of beings did not so overwhelm her as she had both fancied
and feared; the tragedy of each individual life was lost in the
confusion, and was she not a sharer in their doom?
Suddenly, a man stood before her with a cork life-preserver in his
hands, and buckled it around her securely, under the arms. He was
panting and almost exhausted, yet he strove to make his voice firm,
and even cheerful, as he said:
"We fought the cowardly devils as long as there was any hope. Two
boats are off, and two capsized; in ten minutes more every soul
must take to the water. Trust to me, and I will save you or die
with you!"
"What else can I do?" she answered.
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