There was no time for parleying. Crying, "Make way for the women and children," the officer, fancying that Helen also was safe, thrust the lame boy over the ship's side, and the over-filled boat moved away.
This half-instinctive act of generosity restored Helen to her presence of mind. The frantic crowd that had surged round her melted away as the boat passed out of sight. She rallied her courage and looked around her, wondering how she could best set about finding her father.
At this period the scene was a terrible one. The vessel was sinking fast, and already, where Helen stood, the water was almost up to her knees. Heart-rending cries and pitiful prayers filled the air. Mothers were calling wildly on their children, husbands on their wives, for the heavy mist and darkness added to the horror of the scene, making it difficult for people to distinguish one another.
Obtaining no answer to her repeated cries, Helen determined to advance cautiously. Clinging to the bulwarks, stumbling at every step, half drenched with water and benumbed with cold, she scrambled on for some distance. Once or twice she fancied that she heard her father's voice calling her, and replying as well as she was able, she struggled on in the direction from which the sound came. To reach him was her one absorbing desire. She felt certain that his strong arms would save her, that he would not let her perish.
Dawn came slowly. The mists lifted, but only to show a wild waste of water ruffled by a rising wind, and the sea-horses moaning and fretting round the doomed vessel, as though waiting for their prey. Helen shivered, and her courage began to fail. The water was rising, and people were climbing into the rigging.
"Father! father!" she cried wildly; but there was no answer, only a faint moan that sounded as though it came from someone quite close to her.
Helen paused. The sound was so pitiful it arrested her attention. She looked about, and presently she descried a crouched-up figure close beside her clinging to a hand-rail that had formed part of some steps leading to the bridge. The girl put out her hand and touched the recumbent figure.
"Are you hurt?" she asked. "Can I help you?"
Helen felt her hand clutched, and the figure raised itself. Then she started back, for in the wild, terror-stricken face that met her gaze she recognized her stepmother.
"Mamma!"