"You see, passengers get excited in such cases, get to lose their heads. Cone never even looked at him, never took his eyes from the settling ship.
"The engineer force had gone, the only men left aboard were the quartermasters and mates. Cone spoke to Billings.
"'Get Redding and the rest—get in the boat, I'll come along in a moment.'
"The Champion was settling fast now. The roar of the steam and air from between decks was deafening. Billings didn't quite get the words, but he knew he was told to go—and he went. The third officer found Redding lying with a broken head and dragged him to the side, lowered him down and started after him. Just as he did this, there was a ripping noise from below. It was like a tearing sort of explosion, a rending. Cone had disappeared from the bridge and they waited no longer but shoved clear. At that instant the Champion surged ahead, lifted her stern and dropped—she was gone.
"The suction whirled about, sucked the boat first one way and then another, bringing her right over the foundering ship. Billings saw a form jammed under the topmast backstay, saw a hand clutching something white and he reached for it as the topmast went under.
"It was Cone. It was the skipper.
"They hauled him into the boat and he still clutched that thing in his hand. He had been drawn under, been badly strangled and he was unconscious, but his hand hold was firm and no one took notice of what he held. It was the photograph of a woman.
"Billings didn't know anything about him; didn't know but what the tales told were true—so he took the thing away from him and said nothing about it; but Redding knew, Redding knew after he saw it—months afterward when it was shown him—too late to stop the nasty stories—oh, yes, it was the picture of his wife.
"Of course, Cone was living alone, had many affairs—so they said—and it would not do to drag a woman into his ugly life. He had gone into his room to get it—the picture—gone in to get it with that ship sinking under him, the unsentimental and brutal Cone—oh, well, what's the use?
"Yes, his hand was jammed between the backstay and the mast and Billings just got him clear in time—funny, is it? Well, I don't know, some men wouldn't have been so particular over a photograph, would have used both their hands to fight clear with—what? But then, that's what you call sentiment. No, you wouldn't expect it from Cone, wouldn't expect to find it in a seaman with ruddy cheeks and quiet manner, soft and a bit fat——"