She was carrying it carefully in her hand, evidently having left all her other belongings behind.
Another woman was taking great care of an umbrella and a box of candy. Martha clung fast to her untouched basket of fruit.
A strange sight met their eyes when they reached the promenade deck. Beside them, in the dense fog, was the steamer which had rammed them, her bow still in the hole she had made; apparently just “standing by” until help came.
The passengers surged in all directions. Some were crying, some laughing hysterically; others pale and silent; but most were as calm as if this were an everyday occurrence, or at least an interesting one. A few blustered angrily over the delay and the inconvenience. The kicker, like the poor, we have always with us.
“There is really no danger,” cried John Pierce, working his way in and out among the people. “An SOS has been sent out, and assistance will soon be here.”
He had no time to linger with Martha now, but paused beside her long enough to say, “Don’t get excited. There is no need for worry.”
Jeanette and Martha, pale with anxiety, sat on the arms of Miss Ashton’s chair; for Jim had succeeded in finding a place for her to sit down. He and Nancy were half leaning, half sitting, on a pile of camp stools near by.
“Frightened, Nan?” he asked, looking down at her.
“Not—exactly,” she replied, bravely smiling up at him, but she shook with nervousness. “If there were only something one could do, instead of just having to wait passively.”
“I imagine it won’t be very long,” he said, slipping his arm around her to steady her a little. “We are so close to Boston that a boat, should reach us very quickly.”