There was scarcely any wind, as we were partially sheltered in this location. A wind might possibly have saved us; but as it was, and in our crippled condition, there was absolutely no hope.
Uncle Naboth stumbled toward us and said to Joe:
“Call the passengers. Get ’em all on deck an’ see that there are plenty of life preservers. Ned’s getting the boats ready to launch.”
I went with Joe, for there was nothing I could do on deck. Madam de Alcantara began to scream again, but she was not slow in grabbing her jewels and gaining the deck, where she collapsed at once and sobbed like a baby. We got the old lady up easily, and she was as cheerful as anyone could be under such trying circumstances. I had Lucia search for all the cloaks and warm clothing she could lay hands on and Joe and I brought up a lot of blankets; for the air was chilly, even in this tropical clime, and I knew we would all be soaked if we managed to get ashore in the boats.
Bryonia provided a lot of food for us—tinned meats, biscuits and various edibles that might be eaten uncooked—and had the forethought to add some utensils for cooking, as well. A keg of fresh water was deposited in each of the boats. By this time the grim island ahead was very near, and Captain Steele shouted his orders to have the boats lowered.
We put the women into the first, while it still swung at the davits, and Ned Britton, cool as a cucumber, picked a crew to man it. He watched his chance and dropped the longboat neatly on the crest of a high wave, casting loose as the ship rolled heavily in the opposite direction. A little cheer arose from our men as they saw Ned’s boat floating safely, and at once Joe began loading the gig. The two De Jiminez and Uncle Naboth were with this lot; but Joe was not so fortunate as Ned had been. He dropped the boat all right into the gulf between two big waves, but a line got tangled, somehow, and in a jiffy the gig was over and her occupants struggling frantically in the water. The boatswain dropped the third boat quick as a flash, got free from the ship and began picking up the swimmers. Ned also came to the rescue, at the peril of capsizing his own frail craft, and he drew Little Jim aboard as the boy was sinking for the third time. His father was hauled in by a boat hook wielded by the sturdy boatswain, and fortunately Uncle Naboth was spilled so close to the side that he was able to seize a rope and hold fast until rescued. Not a life was lost and the third boat, the cutter, carried its double load easily.
There remained to us but one more boat to launch, and I went to my father and said:
“Come, sir; there’s nothing to be gained by waiting.”
He shook his head.
“Get aboard, Sam,” said he, “and take all the men that’s left with you. I’m goin’ to stay here.”