"Madam, the boat!" interrupted the anxious captain.
"I'll wait," answered the woman. "This man is wounded–the man who saved all of us. Can't you do something? See! he's weak!"
She gave an alarmed cry as the Englishman staggered. He saved himself by clutching the rail.
"It must–have been those–those circles I cut among the rascals," he laughed unsteadily. "They make me dizzy."
"You're evading," she said quickly; "it's the Berber's knife."
With a strong effort Britton summoned his will-power to control his weakened nerves, and roughly dashed a hand across his eyes. It was with a great sensation of relief that he felt his returning steadiness of muscle, and he glanced at the rope ladders which filled the waiting boats with fleeing people.
"We had better be getting down," he advised. "The steamer will not float long."
Even as he spoke, the coaster lurched alarmingly. Rex grasped the woman's arm and drew her quickly to the rail.
A thrown rope whipped his cheek, and he caught it skilfully, peering below at a small boat which swayed to the roll of the steamer.
"For God's sake, Britton, come off that old hulk," shouted someone. "She's sinking fast!"