We stood holding on to each other, and Barraclough, Lane and the Prince were holding on by the brass rods on the cabin doors. She rolled and kicked and stood up at an angle of 45°.
"What is it?" I screamed.
Legrand pointed to the blackness without. "We'll get it in a little. I hope to God it will be no worse than this. She can't stand on her head with safety."
Suddenly the roar swelled louder, and dismal shrieks and whistlings sounded in the ears. The Sea Queen sank, and a whole tide of sea rushed over the bulwarks and flooded the state-rooms. The water ran knee-deep and set the bodies of the dead awash. One struck against me in the whirlpool. It was a ghastly scene, set in that gathered darkness.
"Nothing can be done. We've got to hold on," said Legrand. "He's a good seaman; I'll say that for him. But how many's he got with him? He's undermanned. It's all on the engine-room now."
We were silent again, mainly because it was almost impossible to hear anything through that tempest of wind and volcanic sea. She came right for a moment, and our grip of each other relaxed.
"I'm going, Legrand," I called to him.
"Don't be a fool," said he.
"Oh, I'm all right. I've forgotten something," I shouted. "I'll see to myself"; and I cut myself adrift from him.
I crossed the corridor successfully, and then the yacht heeled and I was almost precipitated to the other end of it. She was being knocked about like a tin pot in a gale. I seized a door-handle and hung on, and when the vessel recovered somewhat I twisted it, but it did not give. The boudoir must be farther on.