"And none too soon," answered the captain. "Look there!" He pointed forward, where the tarpaulin of the main hatch had lifted like a great bubble from the pressure of hot air and gases beneath. "There is dunnage under the hatch and it is afire, Mr. Morton," he said, turning to our passenger, "you and your sister will go in the boat with me. I will bring her up when I bring my papers."
I had no mind for this. I turned away, and while directing the manning of the boats, did some deep and desperate thinking. Put her in an open boat with a lunatic brother and a doddering old skipper, I fumed? Not much.
As the men swarmed down, Grace appeared in the forward companion. I beckoned to her, and she came. We had already rigged a whip from the fore yardarm, and in a "bosun's chair" at the end of this I quickly hoisted her over the side and into my boat. George, leaving his sister to the captain's care, had descended to his boat on the other side. When all were over but the captain and myself, the former appeared on deck.
"Where is Miss Morton?" he called. "I cannot find her."
"In the boat, captain," I truthfully yelled. "Hurry up, sir. There's no time to lose."
I pointed, as he had done, to the main hatch. The bubble had burst, and up from the rent rose a column of smoke.
"Go ahead, sir," he answered. "I must be last."
I clambered down the side, and joined Grace in the sternsheets.
"Where is George?" she asked. "I thought he was coming, and the captain, too."
"Both in the starboard boat," I answered. "You're in here with me, where I can take care of you. Shove off!" I commanded. "Both boats shove off, and get away from here."