The ship’s bells clanged twice — nine o’clock. The wind whipped the sound and dispersed it, just as it snatched the smoke from the stacks of the steamer, tore it into black ribbons, and dissolved them into the night. On the port beam, a lighthouse winked intermittently.
The ship, rolling heavily, swung far over to port, paused, then, instead of righting itself, rolled still farther, until Mason, clinging to a stanchion for support, could look down the slanting deck to the dark, tossing waves.
He heard a faint scream, then an explosive sound. He stood still, listening. The scream was repeated. It seemed to come from two decks above him.
As the ship slowly righted, Mason ran to the rail, leaned over, and tried to peer upward. The rain flooded his eyes, beat down upon his coat, trickled in rivulets along his neck and down the angle of his jaw. He could see nothing.
The ship sluggishly swung over to starboard. The waves, as though concentrating in a surprise attack, crashed against her quivering hull. Mason heard the faint jangling of a bell somewhere, then the whistle blew five short, quick blasts. The ship heeled far over and was filled with thumping jars, as though it had been an automobile running on a flat tire.
Mason realized one screw had been reversed, while the other was going full speed ahead, swinging the ship in a quick turn.
Feet pounded along the boat deck. Mason saw a circular life buoy whirl out into the darkness. It struck the water, and almost immediately the inky darkness was dispelled by a bright flare of light which drifted back and to one side as the ship turned.
The big seas now struck on the beam. The ship rolled in the troughs. Mason held to a stanchion, then fought his way back to the door, which suddenly burst open. A uniformed officer shouted, “Get back inside!”
“What’s the matter?” Mason asked.
“Man overboard!” the officer yelled, and ran forward, clinging to a hand rail to keep from slipping on the wet, slanting deck.