Now the forward lookout on the Alto made out the first sign of a swiftly approaching vessel. Rapidly it came on. Under instructions from Captain Johnson, the wireless operator was attempting to “pick up” the oncoming craft, but, after several futile attempts, finally gave it up. The stranger vouchsafed no reply.
The cruiser’s bell tolled the half hour.
“Half past seven!”
The words escaped the kneeling girl. She arose and, going to a little mirror, straightened her hair. She was beyond tears, and was preparing to meet her death bravely. She had given up all hope of rescue.
Came a knock at the door.
“Come!” she called, and Lieutenant Berkeley entered.
“Are you ready, Miss Beulow,” he questioned.
“Yes,” replied the girl calmly, and followed him on deck.
To the farthest point aft on the cruiser the lieutenant led the way, Alice following with a firm step. As she reached the selected spot and stopped, there came a cry from the lookout:
“Boat coming toward the Alto, sir!”