Away goes the heavily laden boat, and faster and yet faster, down—down goes the sinking vessel. The deck but just clears the water, and there stand Guy and Zula waiting, with but a moment between them and death. How calmly they wait. Guy clasps her hand, his face has grown pale.
“Zula,” he says, “I can swim, but you shall not go 51 down alone. The lifeboat cannot possibly return in time to take us away.”
Zula draws her hand away, and, stooping, unfastens and draws her shoes from her feet, then turning to Guy she says in a cool and fearless manner:
“I have no idea of going down.”
“I am not an expert swimmer and perhaps I can do no more than save myself; but I will try to save you.”
“See, we must be quick,” he said, again offering his hand.
She drew back hurriedly, saying:
“Save yourself, Cousin Guy.”
At that moment the boat careened, a splashing of the pipes in the water and down, down, down she went out of sight.
A heart-rending cry arose from the boat nearing the island. Mrs. Horton and Mrs. Platts anxiously watching the two standing on the vessel’s deck saw them strike the water and then all hope was lost. They buried their faces in their hands to shut out the very thought of the terrible sight.