“How can I?” asked Haltren. “Good-bye. And I’ll say good-bye to you, major—”
“Good-bye,” muttered the major, attempting to clasp his fat little hands behind his back.
Haltren, who had no idea of offering his hand, stood still a moment, glancing at the cabin skylights; then, with a final nod to Darrow, he deliberately slid over-board and waded away, knee-deep, towards the palm-fringed shore.
Darrow could not contain himself. “Major Brent,” he said, “I suppose you don’t realize that Haltren saved the lives of every soul aboard this launch.”
The major’s inflamed eyes popped out.
“Eh? What’s that?”
“More than that,” said Darrow, “he came back from safety to risk his life. As it was he lost his boat and his gun—”
“Damnation!” broke out the major; “you don’t expect me to ask him to stay and meet the wife he deserted four years ago!”
And he waddled off to the engine-room, where the engineer and his assistant were tinkering at the wrecked engine.
Darrow went down into the sloppy cabin, where, on a couch, Mrs. Castle lay, ill from the shock of the recent catastrophe; and beside her stood an attractive girl stirring sweet spirits of ammonia in a tumbler.