“Heaven bless her!” he muttered. Then in a quick whisper—“We shall have to call you up presently, my lad.”
“Why?”
“The enemy are closing in. They’ll make a desperate fight of it this time, and every help we can muster is necessary. Eh! Want me?” he said, as there was a tap on the door.
He went out, and I was thinking whether I could withdraw my hand without waking Walters, so as to get out on deck and help, when he opened his eyes and looked round quickly as if he wondered where he was.
Then he saw me and smiled.
“Don’t forget, Dale,” he whispered. “Now I want Miss Denning.”
He loosened my hand, and I went out to find her waiting close by the door.
“Walters wants to see you, Miss Denning,” I said, and she bowed her head and crept silently into the ruddily-lit cabin, and knelt down by where Walters lay.
“Yes,” he said, holding out his hands. “Thank you. But you tell them—how sorry—they will listen—to you.—Now—‘Our Father’—”
Helena Denning’s voice took up the words and went on in a low appealing murmur, and as I looked wildly in Walters’ face, I saw his lips moving till she uttered the words—“and forgive us our trespasses—”