McKay followed her and was by her side before she had left the companion-ladder.
"Take care, pray. There is a heavy sea on still and the deck is very slippery. I will call Captain Trejago if you will wait here."
"One moment; do not leave me, Mr. McKay. What an exciting, extraordinary scene! But how terrible!"
The yacht rode the waves gallantly: now on their crest, now in the trough between two giant rollers, and always wet with spray. Fragments of wreck still came racing by, borne swiftly by the waters and adding greatly to the horrors of the dread story they told.
"There must have been immense loss among the shipping," said McKay. "It is a mercy and a marvel how we escaped."
"The poor things! To be lost—cast away on this cruel, inhospitable land. How very, very sad!"
"It is safer, you see, to leave this dangerous anchorage. Do you still want the captain? He is busy there forward."
For the moment everyone was forward: they were all intent on the straining cables and the muddle of gear that would have to be cleared or cut away when they got up sail.
So Mrs. Wilders and McKay stood at the cabin companion alone—absolutely alone—with the raging elements, the whistling wind still three parts of a gale, and the cruel, driving sea.
"Shall I fetch the captain?" McKay repeated.