Timar was wading up to his knees in water before he had collected all he wanted from his cabin and packed them in a box, which he took on his shoulder and then hurried to the boat.
"And where is Timéa?" he cried, not seeing her there.
"The devil knows!" growled the pilot. "I wish she had never been born." Timar flew back into Timéa's cabin, now up to his waist in water, and took her in his arms. "Have you the casket?"
"Yes," whispered the girl.
He asked no more, but hurried with her on deck, and carried her in his arms into the boat, where he put her on the middle seat. The fate of the "St. Barbara" was being decided with awful rapidity. The ship was going down stern first, and in a few minutes only the upper deck and the mast, with the dangling tow-rope, were visible above water.
"Shove off!" Timar said to the rowers, and the boat moved toward the shore.
"Where is the casket?" Timar asked the girl, when they had already gone some distance.
"Here it is," answered Timéa, showing him what she had brought away.
"Miserable girl! that is the box of sweetmeats, not the casket." In fact, Timéa had brought the box of Turkish sweets, meant as a present to her new sister, and had totally forgotten the casket which held her whole fortune. That was left behind in the submerged cabin. "Back to the ship!" Timar cried to the pilot.
"Surely nobody has got such a mad notion as to look for anything in a sunken ship," grumbled Fabula.