But all day Laurier haunted her vicinity. He could scarcely take his eyes from the beautiful, luring face with its down-dropped eyes bent so steadily over her book; he simply forgot his betrothed’s existence, and kept wishing feverishly that something would happen to make him acquainted with the fascinating stranger.
How terribly our wild wishes are answered sometimes!
Laurier did not dream that his good or evil fate would soon grant his prayer.
Jessie sang again on deck that night, and Laurier retired to toss on a restless pillow, and dream of her all night.
In the dark hour that comes before the dawn a leaping flame shot up from the steamer into the darkness, irradiating the gloom with awful light, while panic-stricken voices rang out upon the night, shouting: “Fire! Fire! Fire!”
CHAPTER XXVI.
AN OCEAN TRAGEDY.
Of the horrors that attended the burning of the Atlanta in mid-ocean that September night none could clearly tell, not even the survivors, so sudden had been the alarm, so terrible the onset of the leaping flames, so wild the ferocity of almost every one as they fought over the lifeboats, forgetting honor and chivalry in the mad rush for continued existence.
From the first moment it was evident that the ship was doomed. The fire had gained such headway before it was discovered that its progress could not be checked. So the dread alarm, “Fire! Fire! Fire!” rang out in horror from anguished voices blending with the roaring, leaping flames, and the sullen roar of old ocean, both deadly enemies to mankind, and eager for their destruction.
Over the hurly-burly of wind and wave and fire rose the captain’s voice, ordering out the lifeboats, and then the struggle for life began, intensified by the anguished shrieks of women and children, wailing and screaming in their despair.
The boats were lowered, but, alas, there would not be room for all the Atlanta’s freight of human souls!