“Turn everything out,” continued Gunseyt, striking a match and holding it for a torch. “Take only a few of your most valuable things or keepsakes. There won’t be room for much in the boat. Here, what’s this?”
“Only those ‘wireless shoes’ I showed you,” replied the boy. “Don’t bother with them.”
“It’s too bad to let a present like that go to the bottom. If you haven’t got too much to lug, you might take ’em out of the box and stick ’em in your pocket. Or I’ll take care of them for you. All I’ve got is an overcoat. It’ll be cold in the boat.”
“I’ll take my rubber coat,” said Guy. “Mother, you take your raincoat and muff and a scarf for your head.”
Guy observed in the light of Mr. Gunseyt’s matches that the latter wore a life jacket under his unbuttoned overcoat, and this observation enlivened him to the full seriousness of the situation. But he kept his head, lest he throw his mother into a panic, and quietly took down two cork jackets hanging from pegs on the wall. One he fastened around himself and the other he carried in his hand, intending to slip it on his mother when he found opportunity to do so without alarming her too much.
Mrs. Burton remained silent most of the time, working energetically and courageously with her son, while Gunseyt held lighted matches over them. Presently the vessel began to list perceptibly, warning them not to waste any more time. Then something else happened that added a wilder confusion to the critical conditions.
Hitherto the helper of Guy and his mother appeared to be inspired not only with great generosity, but with remarkable courage. Although he had urged the woman and her son to make haste, his voice and manner had been steady and reassuring. For this the boy was thankful. He was certain that he would not lose control of himself under any circumstances, but feared lest his mother become panic stricken.
With the lurching of the ship, however, the “brave” Mr. Gunseyt was the first to show signs of consternation. A cry of alarm escaped him, and he turned and ran from the stateroom, shouting back to the others:
“Come on—quick—to the boats! No time to lose!”
Guy and his mother followed, the former carrying his rubber coat and a life jacket for his mother and the latter wearing her mackintosh and muff and a scarf around her head. Outside the stateroom, they found their way lighted with a few lanterns that had been substituted for electric bulbs, whose current was now dead. Gunseyt was twenty feet ahead, making with his best speed for the exit to the outer deck. In one hand he carried the box of “wireless shoes” and in the other a tennis racket.