Quickly, yet with good discipline, the boat was manned and lowered—Anstey, the two engineers, and Mr. Shallop in the stern-sheets.
"Keep in company, Mr. Anstey," shouted Preston, as the falls swung free.
"Ay, ay, sir," was the reply, followed by the order: "give way."
Anstey's boat was barely clear of the side when the first boat to be swung out was let go with a run. Greatly overcrowded, it struck the water with tremendous force. The impact broke her back, and in a moment she filled, leaving the frantic natives floundering in the water. Some were crushed as the sea flung the waterlogged craft against the ship's side. Others strove to clamber into the boat, only to destroy her slight buoyancy. In the mêlée knives were used with deadly effect, until only half a dozen men, who had swum clear of the boat, were left out of the thirty odd who had crowded into her.
It had been both Preston's and Anstey's plan to get the women away first; but each had quickly realized that this was out of the question. For one thing, neither Mrs. Shallop nor Olive was on the boat-deck. For another, it was useless to attempt to place them in the boats until the panic-stricken mob was effectively dealt with.
Two more boats, each under the charge of an engineer, and with three or four stewards, got away with difficulty. The crowd on the boat-deck had thinned considerably.
"Now, then, where are the women?" demanded Preston. He was not altogether certain whether they had already got away, for, save for the less frequent flashes of lightning, the scene was in total darkness.
"Here you are, Preston!" shouted a voice that the Acting Chief recognized as the Purser's.
A bluish glare, a prolonged flash, enabled Preston to see the missing passengers. The Purser was literally dragging Mrs. Shallop along the deck, while Olive was close behind.
For once Mrs. Shallop was silent. She was unconscious.