It was Mahmed who discovered the apparently lifeless form of the Chief Officer. He communicated his discovery to his compatriots, and an excited conversation ensued. Meanwhile the boat was drifting aimlessly at less than ten yards from the West Barbican's port quarter. Until it occurred to the lascars—who were arguing on a question of precedence as to who should now give orders—that there was imminent danger of the boat being swamped by the suction of the foundering ship, they made no effort to man the oars.
When about a hundred yards from the ship the lascars ceased rowing and resumed their argument.
All this time Olive had done what lay in her power to render Mrs. Shallop's plight less painful. She was in utter ignorance of the accident that had befallen the luckless Acting Chief Officer, although she was rather puzzled at the lack of discipline displayed by the lascars, and the fact that the officer in charge of the boat made no attempt to check the dispute.
Another vivid sheet of lightning illumined the scene, but Olive was not looking into the boat. Her attention was attracted by the sight of two men standing on the listing bridge of the ill-fated West Barbican.
The glare was of sufficient duration to enable her to distinguish Captain Bullock and Mostyn. She saw the former raise his hand and beckon the boat to pull clear. He was shouting something, but in the turmoil the words were indistinguishable.
The long-drawn lightning flash ended, leaving the girl blinking in Stygian darkness.
"There's Captain Bullock and Mostyn still on board, Mr. Preston," she exclaimed, in anxious tones. "Can't we put back to fetch them?"
There was no reply.
In a louder tone Olive repeated the question of entreaty.
Still there was no answer.