The man seemed, suddenly, to lose his head completely. With a wild stare at the light glimmering on the shore, he rushed toward the rail.
“Save me,” he shouted. “Not a man among ’em all! Cowards!” he yelled, and shook his fist toward the black swirl of water. Captain Joe caught the bewildered man by the shoulder and whirled him about.
“Your anchors?” he demanded. “Where’s your anchors?”
The lone man threw his hands to his face.
“I couldn’t do it—I didn’t know how.”
“But your engine?” exclaimed Mac again.
“The shaft broke yesterday,” answered the man at last. “We’ve been driftin’—we’re on the breakers, I tell you,” he shouted again. “Can’t you save her?” he wailed.
The storm had not abated. The low lying steamer rose and fell sluggishly but with each roll, it drifted closer to a certain doom on the wave pounded beach. The crew of the Escambia huddled about the bewildered man. Captain Romano grasped the lantern again, and lowered it over the steamer’s rail.
“She’s opened her plates, or she’s been a shippin’ sea all even’in’,” he commented. “Struck anything?” he asked abruptly, addressing the bewildered passenger again.
The man shook his head helplessly.