She struck it full abeam, like a motor-car smashing in the dark into an unlighted farm-waggon drawn across a country lane. Bows crumpled up; bowsprit snapped away; foremast, loosed from its stay, and forced back by the pressure of a half-gale on the close-hauled foresail, carried over to port in a tangle of rope and wire and canvas.
Thrown back on her haunches, the "Starlight" gasped and shivered and began to settle by the head from the rush of water into the forecastle.
"All on deck with lifebelts!"
A seaman rushed through the saloons, throwing wide the cabin doors, and shouting the captain's order.
Up above, men were ripping the canvas covers off the life-boats, flinging oilskins and rugs and provisions into them, slewing round the davits, hauling on the fall-ropes—a furious medley of energies.
Matheson rushed to his wife's cabin, helped her on with some clothes, tied her lifebelt, wrapped a rug around her, and hurried her on deck.
"What have we hit?" he snapped at the captain.
"Derelict."
"How long d'you give her?"
"Ten minutes at the outside!" flung back the captain, and then into his megaphone: "Lower away there with No. 4!"