Everson pulled himself out of the daze which in that moment of dread had benumbed his faculties. A glance he gave to the settling decks and the useless boats. He had neither men nor the time to unship them.
He turned to his companions.
"Those who have prayers to say had best say them; for this is the end of our traveling," he said simply. Suiting his action to the words, he knelt on the deck.
At the side of Polaris Janess appeared the red-haired stranger. As he had once before, he now caught up the hand of the son of the snows. Holding it, he looked into Polaris's face and smiled, a fearless and whimsical smile.
"A strong hand, my brother, strong to hold a kingdom. This is not your death that is coming. I will save you and these with you. I promise," he said—and the marvel to Polaris and to the others was that the man who before had been speechless now spoke readily and in excellent English.
Not waiting for the answer, which, in his surprise, Polaris was slow to give, the stranger left his side and ran across the deck. He strapped his odd mask over his face, clapped his helmet on his head and fastened it. He caught up from the deck a length of steel chain. With a run and a leap, he was gone—over the fast settling rail and into the sea.
Scarcely had the golden helmet disappeared over the side when the waves crossed the decks to meet the water that was spouting from the interior of the cruiser.
"A madman!" Polaris muttered. He turned and gathered Rose Emer in his arms. She clung to him, sobbing softly.
"Be brave, dear heart," he whispered. "It isn't hard to die, and wherever we are going, we shall go together."
Around them rose the waves.