“Man,” she was saying, “let me pass! You do not know who I am. I am the wife of Judge Barrowby.”
“Marm, you may be the wife of the harkangel Gabriel as far as I knows; but I've my orders. Stand aside please. Any more babies in arms?” he cried.
But Mrs. Judge Barrowby knew the value of a good useful life, and persistently blocked up the gangway.
“One woman is as good as another,” she said.
“Ay, except the mothers, and they're better,” said the man, pushing her aside to let a lady and her child pass.
“THAT woman!” cried Mrs. Judge Barrowby. “A woman who has been the talk of the whole ship—before ME—a flirting grass widow!”
“Gawd knows,” said the man, holding her back. “It's little enough to fight about.”
“I will report you, man.”
“Yes, marm, to the good God, and I ain't afraid o' HIM! NOW you may go!”
And, fuming, Mrs. Judge Barrowby went down to her death. Not one boat could reach the shore through such a surf, as captain and crew well knew; but there are certain formalities vis-a-vis to human lives which must be observed by ship-captains and doctors and others.