The sea was not running very high, so that it would be possible to launch the boats and then lower the passengers into them. The mate shouted his orders.
“Two men at each davit. Easy, easy! Don’t let that line get wedged there! Now lower!”
The boats were built to hold about twenty each. The ship’s cook, cabin boy, and two of the seamen went along in the first boat with the women. Then the second boat, already hauled up to the davits, was hoisted with some difficulty and maddening delays, out over the gunwale. Men began sliding down the rope ladder.
The fire spread rapidly through the hold of the ancient vessel. Smoke rolled up in huge spirals and puffs into the dawn of the breaking sky. The squall was passing rapidly up the world.
“Shove ’er off!” shouted Mr. Nelson hoarsely. And the second boat drifted loose. Jerome seized an oar, the impresario another, and they stroked side by side with the seamen.
Slowly the boats pulled away from the doomed old ship which had seemed to share with them such a deal of human drama, and which had valiantly brought them so far.
They picked the skipper up; and so overwhelmed was he by the immense misfortune which had come upon him in so short a time that he no longer bawled but seemed unable to do more than stare in a dazed way.
VI
It was a glorious dawn. The squall had cleared the air, and the sun emerged in a red glare to gaze upon this spectacle of disaster.
The two small boats kept together and moved slowly off toward the misty coast of Borneo. By noon, barring mishap, they would limp into the harbour. However, there would be no flying moor.