Tom caught the coiling end of the rope and secured it, allowing a play of a few feet between the two craft.
“Drop the ladder!” came the next order.
“The women first!” shouted one of the steamer officers. “Get back, there!”
There was light enough for Tom to see a portly, fussy old man press close to the rail, vehemently shouting out that he would sue the steamship company if they did not instantly get him to dry land. He uttered a howl of despair as he was ignominiously bundled out of the way.
“I can’t—I won’t, I shall faint!” shrieked a rasping feminine voice, as a staunch sailor was compelled to carry her down the swaying ladder.
She wriggled like an eel as Tom grabbed her and forced her into the cabin of the launch, going instantly into hysterics as she landed on a cushioned seat.
“There are only eight of the ladies,” called down the captain.
“Hold tight, Aunt Bertha,” Tom heard a familiar voice speak steadily.
“Oh, dear, I know I shall fall and be drowned!” wailed the second of the rescued passengers, whom Tom was sure must be the aunt in whose charge Grace had started on the present unlucky voyage.
