When Simms gave up the ship Barbara Harding saw the wheelmen, there had been two of them, desert their post, and almost instantly the nose of the Halfmoon turned toward the rocks; but scarcely had the men reached the deck than Theriere leaped to their place at the wheel.
Unassisted he could do little with the heavy helm. Barbara saw that he alone of all the officers and men of the brigantine was making an attempt to save the vessel. However futile the effort might be, it at least bespoke the coolness and courage of the man. With the sight of him there wrestling with death in a hopeless struggle a little wave of pride surged through the girl. Here indeed was a man! And he loved her—that she knew. Whether or no she returned his love her place was beside him now, to give what encouragement and physical aid lay in her power.
Quickly she ran to the wheelhouse. Theriere saw her and smiled.
“There's no hope, I'm afraid,” he said; “but, by George, I intend to go down fighting, and not like those miserable yellow curs.”
Barbara did not reply, but she grasped the spokes of the heavy wheel and tugged as he tugged. Theriere made no effort to dissuade her from the strenuous labor—every ounce of weight would help so much, and the man had a wild, mad idea that he was attempting to put into effect.
“What do you hope to do?” asked the girl. “Make that opening in the cliffs?”
Theriere nodded.
“Do you think me crazy?” he asked.
“It is such a chance as only a brave man would dare to take,” she replied. “Do you think that we can get her to take it?”
“I doubt it,” he answered. “With another man at the wheel we might, though.”