The touch of some one, quite calm and controlled, made him look about. Roberta was beside him, still dressed as she had been; she had not gone to bed; she had heard the first reports of the fire.
“There was an accident in the stores. Oil got afire and scattered. It seems to be beyond control. Get people to dress. The stewards and ones like you and I can bring out their clothes. Of course, we’ve called help by wireless. The Corinthian can’t be more than thirty miles away.”
“We can’t call it; it can’t come! It’s been called on an S. O. S. call to the Wellington!”
“What’s happened to the Wellington?”
“Nothing.”
“Then why is the Corinthian going to it?”
Andy told her.
“They must have our wireless repaired now,” she said, as they moved forward with the other passengers. “You couldn’t have broken it badly.”
But panic and terror of the passengers increased as they neared the wireless station. “There is no immediate danger. Everybody dress warmly!” Stewards and sailors attempted to command.
“What’s the matter with the wireless?” the cries about the cabin announced the silence of the instruments.