Evan was doing duty on the forward deck where the largest crowd of children was gathered. These were the healthiest and most obstreperous of their passengers. With his back in the point of the bow he could survey all his charges at once. No other helper was in that part of the boat at the moment. All was serene; the children for the most part swinging their legs in camp chairs and amiably disputing.
Suddenly from the very bowels of the vessel there came a horrifying report. The Ernestina staggered sickeningly, listed to port, and commenced to limp around in a circle like a wounded bird. Terrible smashing and rending sounds succeeded the first crash. It seemed as if the frail little vessel must fly asunder under such blows.
After a second's frozen silence on deck a dreadful chorus broke forth. Only those who have witnessed a panic at sea will know. On land one may always run from a horror; at sea there is nothing between horror and horror. When the majority of passengers are helpless children the scene surpasses horror. With sharp animal cries of fright, they ran around in blind circles, or charged in a body from side to side of the deck.
An icy hand was laid on Evan's breast. He expected to see little bodies with flying skirts drop into the water. How could he be everywhere at once? He sprang on a seat.
"Sit down, children!" he cried. "She's broken her engine, that's all. The danger's over now."
They were deaf to his voice. The most frantic of them all was not a child but a woman, who half lay on a bench with limbs stiffened out, screaming continuously like a maniac. Evan's voice was powerless against those cries. He was obliged to silence her. She fell over on the bench limply. Evan sprang up into sight of all again.
"Sit still!" he cried. "The danger's over. Sing with me!"
He raised his voice in Suwanee River, the song every child knew. A few joined in, some of the mothers helped. The frantic cries were stilled a little. The crashing sounds had ceased, but presently the roar of escaping steam renewed the confusion. Panic broke out afresh. Evan sang louder.
They looked in his steady face and ceased their aimless running about. Many joined in. The chorus swelled louder and louder. It was extraordinary what reassurance there was in the sound. The children sat down again, and presently like children, many of them were laughing at their late terrors.
The situation was saved on the forward deck, but Evan sang on with a sick anxiety in his breast. He looked up at the pilot-house. It was empty. Under the chorus he could hear ominous sounds from below, and from the saloon. And Corinna, what of her?