“‘I must go to Grandpapa,’ cried Phronsie, ‘save her;’ and dashed off by herself.”
“I think I’ll go in this boat, don’t you know,” said a voice close to them.
“O Livingston! don’t go and leave me.” There was no drawl now in the shrill, thin voice. “O Miss Pepper, save me! save me!” clutching her.
“Take your hands off,” roared Joel at her, pulling Phronsie away from her grasp. “No Bayley, the women and children and old people must go first.”
“Oh, mercy!” shrieked Mrs. Bayley, wild with terror; “oh, save me somebody! I’ll give any one a thousand dollars to save me,” she screamed. She had her jewels in a small bag, which she huddled up to her bosom. But no one heard her, as all rushed on, trampling down the weaker ones, to get at the boats.
“Is Grandpapa in?” cried Phronsie, as Joel lifted her high, and handed her over to Jim’s long arms ahead.
“Yes, dear.”
“And Mrs. Benson?”
“Yes, Phronsie.”