The captain spoke rapidly to the first lieutenant and the good ship began to tremble from stem to stern as the engines were reversed and the helm shifted so as to bring the sea a little on the port bow.
"Mr. Sutherland," came the first lieutenant's voice, "clear away the starboard whaleboat."
Eric stepped forward, for this was his station. The boat's crew sprang to their stations, the whaleboat was lowered to the rail, and as the Itasca lost her headway, the boat was neatly dropped in the water. The sea had looked a bit rough from the bridge, but down at the water's edge the waves were distinctly high.
Lieutenant Sutherland, who was also the instructor in mathematics, was an absolute wonder in many ways, but small boat work was not much in his line. Still, he handled her well. To Eric, of course, the rough sea did not matter. He was used to that in his life-saving work, and, indeed, every one forgot the danger as the boat pulled on in the lurid crimson of the burning ship. They came close, and hailed.
There was no answer, nothing but the dull roar of the flames in the hold and the spitting hiss as some spray was flung over the vessel's side. No one appeared on deck. The bow, where it was high above the water was cherry red hot, and even the more submerged stern seemed absolutely untenable.
"There can't be any one on board," said the third lieutenant. "You didn't hear a hail?"
"No, sir," answered Eric, "but Jenkins caught another call just before we left."
"Very strange," commented the officer, looking thoughtfully at the derelict. The boat was pulling up towards the lee side and the smoke was stifling. The burning steamer was rolling heavily and there was a litter of wreckage to leeward.
"Can't board there," the officer said to himself. He gave orders to pull again to windward.
"Men," he said suddenly, "there may still be some one aboard that craft. Who'll volunteer?"