"Seems as though we have been hit the second time," replied Alfred.
"Oh! here you are!" shouted the captain, as he rushed down the stairway, followed by an officer.
"What was that?" asked Ralph.
"A bulkhead has just given way," replied the captain.
"Then we are bound to go down," said Alfred with a sigh. "We must get her up before she comes to."
"Yes, but we'll try to save her," replied the captain.
The ship was slowly sinking. The motion of a vessel as it loses its buoyancy gives a most peculiar feeling to those on board, independently of the knowledge that danger is lurking very near. The sinking motion is not a smooth and steady going down, but the movement is accompanied by successive throbs, as it seems,—it almost appears as though the ship were a living thing, sobbing away, until the final plunge takes place.
Aided by the captain and the officer, the woman was quickly brought to the deck, where it was learned that her husband had lost his life on a torpedoed vessel a month before. She opened her eyes as they were placing her in the boat, and instantly recognized Ralph.
"Did I resist and try to injure you?" she asked. "Forgive me!" she said pleadingly. "But I have had so much trouble. You must be a brave boy to act as you did."
"Don't mind that for a minute," replied Ralph. "We were bound to get you out; we didn't think of anything else."