Katherine, trembling and afraid, was already at the door. She wrung her hands, crying piteously, "Oh, Robert! Robert! don't go."
"I must go, sweetheart, they may need me."
"Then I am going too." And she began to hurry into her clothes.
"Dress warmly, dear," he called.
"Yes, I will, and we must take some blankets with us."
Once outside they had no difficulty in locating the wreck. The northern sky was aflame with rockets, and people from all directions were hurrying northward.
The Northwestern University life crew was already on the beach trying to shoot a line to the sinking ship, half a mile from the shore. The boat had been ordered back, for it was certain death in such a sea. The fourth attempt was successful and a shout of joy went up, dimly heard above the storm.
Mickey danced about excitedly as they tied rope after rope of greater strength to the slender cord, that had been shot to the upper deck, but Katherine felt faint, even with her husband's arm around her, when they made preparations to pull the ship's life-boat ashore.
It required almost superhuman strength, but the rush of water westward aided them materially. Katherine never forgot that time of waiting—human lives on shore struggling to save the human lives at sea, and the tense cruel crash of the cold waves.
Lifted high upon an angry crest, the boat was dashed heavily upon the beach. The captain of the stranded vessel, eight seamen and one passenger, were helped out with eager hands.