Courtenay, with one cold glance, chilled into silence the muttered prayers and curses of the Chileans.
“It may be necessary, about daybreak, to endeavor to beach the ship,” he continued. “I wish you all, therefore, to guard against possible exposure by wearing warm clothes, especially furs and overcoats. Money and jewelry should be secured, but no baggage of any sort, not even the smallest handbag, can be carried, as all other personal belongings must be left on board. Passengers will gather here, and remain here until I send one of the officers for them. The companion doors will not be closed again, but the decks are quite impassable. You hear for yourselves that they are momentarily swept by heavy seas.”
He turned to the chief steward.
“Your men, Mr. Malcolm,” he said, “will begin at once, under your directions, to draw stores for each boat. There need be no hurry or excitement. We are, as yet, many miles distant from the nearest known land. If the wind changes, or one of several possible things happens, the Kansas will suffer no damage whatever. I wish all hands to be prepared, however, for the chance, the remote chance, I trust, of the ship’s being driven ashore, and I beg each one of you to remember that discipline and strict obedience to orders are not only more necessary now than ever, but also that they will be strictly enforced.”
The concluding sentence was uttered very slowly and clearly. It was evident he meant the ship’s company to understand him. Before any of his hearers attempted to question him, he jammed the sou’wester on his head and ran up the stairs. The dog followed, somewhat ruefully, the cozy saloon being far more to his liking than the wind-swept, spray-lashed chart-house. Mr. Malcolm promptly stirred his myrmidons with a command to fall in by boats’ crews, and Gomez won his chief’s approval by quietly translating the captain’s orders. Beyond Mrs. Somerville’s subdued sobbing there was little outward manifestation that another crisis in the history of the Kansas and her human freight had come and gone.
“The skipper did turn up, you see,” said the American, when Tollemache came to him. The silent man screwed his lips together as if he would put a padlock on them.
“From your knowledge of the coast, do you think he will be able to beach the ship?” went on Gray, some humorous imp prompting him, even in that tense moment, to draw the expected answer from his new friend and ally.
“Yes, in pieces,” said Tollemache, and the reply was neither humorous nor expected.
CHAPTER IV.
ELSIE GOES ON DECK
As a little yeast leavens much flour so does the presence of a few stout-hearted men give strength and courage to a multitude. Although the rumor soon went the rounds that the giant wave which pooped the ship had carried away two of her six boats, there were no visible signs of flurry in the measures taken to equip the remaining boats for use. The men had confidence in their officers; every one worked smoothly and well.