“Here,” I cries, hailing; and the next moment we were lower still in the water, with Bill Smith aboard, and he says, says he: “Tom, I was about done.”
“It’s only put off another hour or two, Billee,” I says. “And where’s old Squintums?”
“On your weather-bow,” says a gruff voice, and then we went down another two inches with Sam aboard.
Well, there was some comfort in doing one’s best to the last; and I began to feel Mr Ward about a bit; but he was coming to fast, and the first thing he wanted to do was to paddle back to the ship; and, thinking that we might pick up some pieces to lash to our raft, I gave way, dangerous as it was, though a very small sight worse than our present position. So we paddled up to the smoking mass, that I expected would settle down every moment, and then, getting hold of the side rope, Mr Ward and I got on deck.
It was not dark, for there was a little flame here and there, and in some places there was the glow of a lot of sparks, but we hadn’t come to look for that; and, as we stood there forward amongst the smoke, I felt my heart heave, as, with a groan that seemed to tear out of his chest, Mr Ward threw himself down by the figure he was looking for.
She seemed to have ran back to throw herself upon her brother’s body, and there she was, with her arms round him, and though pieces of burning wood lay all about, she did not seem to have been touched.
It was a sad sight, and in spite of all our troubles, I had a little corner left for the young fellow, who had clasped her in his arms, when he started up with a cry of joy.
“Here—water, Roberts, quick!” he cried; and almost as he spoke, Miss Bell gave a great sigh, and we gently lowered her on to the raft, when, getting hold of a bit of burning bulwark floating near, I squenched it out, and managed to lash it to us, so as to ease one side. Then we paddled slowly away, and lay by waiting for the morning, to get together more fragments, and make a better raft.