“Yes. She isn’t here. Oh, God! Oh, God! Where is she?”
“Keep cool. We’ll find her,” urged Wagram. “She may be on deck. Go up there and see. I’ll search here meanwhile.”
But the frantic woman refused. She dashed into each cabin along the passage, searching everywhere, screaming aloud the little one’s name.
“Go up—go up,” repeated Wagram. “I’ll bring her to you if she’s below, but she can’t be.”
The noise above—the trampling and the hauling—increased. The lowering of the boats had already begun.
“I won’t,” she screamed. “Oh, my Lily—my little one! Where are you? Oh, God—where are you?”
She turned to dash along the passage. As she did so the ship gave a sudden lurch, flinging open a cabin door with some violence. It came in full contact with the forehead of the frenzied woman, and sent her stunned into Wagram’s arms.
“Better so,” he said to himself as he lifted her.
The last boat was lowered and ready—in the settling state of the ship, not far below her taffrail. As she lay alongside a man rushed up from the companion-way bearing a limp, unconscious figure.
“It’s Mrs Colville,” said Wagram quickly as he handed over his burden. “Her child’s lost below; I’m going to look for it.”