"Aren't you coming?" asked Bob.
"I'm the last one in," was the sad answer, and then the boy understood that the captain is always the last to leave a sinking ship.
"Shall we get in before you lower it?" asked Bob of the sailors who stood at the davit ropes.
"Yes. We can lower it with you two in. The captain and we can slide down the ropes. We're used to it, but it's ticklish business for land-lubbers." And the man grinned even in that time of terror.
Captain Spark had gone to his cabin for his log book, the ship's papers, and his nautical instruments. As he came out the red sun showed for an instant above the horizon.
"If we had seen that a few hours sooner we wouldn't be here now," remarked the commander sadly. "But it's too late now."
The other boats had pulled away from the wreck. Bob and Mr. Tarbill got into the gig and were lowered to the surface of the heaving ocean.
"Take an oar and fend her away from the ship's side a bit," the captain advised Bob. "Else a wave may smash the gig."
Bob did so. Mr. Tarbill was shivering too much with fear to be of any help. A few seconds later the two sailors who had lowered the boat at the captain's orders leaped into the gig as a wave lifted it close to the Eagle's rail. Then the commander, carrying a few of his possessions and with a last look around his beloved ship, made the same jump and was in his gig.
"Pull away," he commanded sorrowfully, and the sailors rowed out from the foundered ship.