“Where are they all?”
“Gone,” said Brandon.
“What! All?” gasped the girl.
“All—except yourself and the cook.”
She shuddered from head to foot; at last, coming closer to Brandon, she whispered: “And my nurse—?”
Brandon said nothing, but, with a face full of meaning, pointed upward. The girl understood him. She reeled, and would have fallen had not Brandon supported her. Then she covered her face with her hands, and, staggering away to a seat, sank down and wept bitterly.
All were silent. Even the rough sailors respected that grief. Rough! Who does not know that sailors are often the most tender-hearted of men, and always the most impulsive, and most quick to sympathy?
So now they said nothing, but stood in groups sorrowing in her sorrow. The Captain, meanwhile, had revived, and was already on his feet looking around upon the scene. The Hindu also had gained strength with every throb of his heart and every breath of the air.
But suddenly a cry arose from one of the men who stood nearest the hatchway.
“The ship is sinking!”