Not a man stirred, the peril was too great.
“It’s no good, master,” said the old coxswain; “they’re gone, poor lads, by now.”
“No,” cried Leslie excitedly; “the light is there still.”
“Ay,” said the coxswain, “a lamp’ll burn some time longer than a man’s life. Here, master, I’ll go again, if you can get a crew.”
“Volunteers!” shouted Van Heldre; but there was only a confused babble of voices, as women clung to their men, and held back these who would have yielded.
“Are you men!” roared Leslie excitedly: and Madelaine felt her arm grasped tightly.
“I say, are you men, to stand there and see those poor fellows perish before your eyes!”
“It’s throwing lives away,” cried a shrill woman’s voice.
“Ay, go yoursen,” shouted a man angrily.
“I’m going,” roared Leslie. “Only a landsman. Now then, is there never a sailor who will come?”