I could see that we were going astern—but even a child could have told by the way the schooner moved that it was a hopeless case with her.
Even while he was speaking she was sinking perceptibly.
"There is no hope," he said at last, "we must leave her."
All the hands by this time were at their stations, and the boats were lowered with exquisite care and precision. Fortunately they had been that very day uncovered and equipped, in case of accident, so that there was no possible cause for delay.
Keeping Alie and Janet by my side I descended to the boat allotted to us and we took our seats in the stern. By the time we had pulled to a distance of about a hundred yards, the deck of the yacht was level with the water. Five minutes later the gallant but ill-fated Lone Star tipped up on end, gave a sullen plunge, and disappeared beneath the waves to be no more seen by mortal man. I slipped my arm round Alie's waist and drew her closer to my side. She was trembling violently.
"Be brave, dear love," I whispered. "For all our sakes, be brave."
She turned her head in the direction where the poor yacht had disappeared and said, almost under her breath:
"Good-bye, Lone Star, good-bye."
Then she stooped forward and buried her face in her hands.
To divert her thoughts, I turned to the boat nearest us, which was commanded by Patterson, and asked what he thought we had better do.