"Yes, whose fault was it? You belong to the other ship, you'll know all about it. They ought to hang the man who is responsible for this awful thing—my poor mother and father—oh——" And she broke into a sob.
The man at the steering oar smiled grimly.
"Yes, miss, that's right, they sure ought to hang the officer who runs down a liner on a clear night when he's bound to see the lights plainly. I don't make no excuses for him—it's more'n murder."
"You were on watch, on duty—you are dressed?" said the girl.
"Yes, I knowed it when I first seen you," snarled the seaman. "I reckon you're the man who did it—what was the matter? Couldn't you keep awake, or what?" The tone was a sneer, an insult, yet the sailor did wish to find out how so unusual a thing could happen as the running down of a ship on a clear night when her lights could be seen fifteen miles or more.
James tried to defend himself. It was instinctive. The contempt of the sailor was too much. On other occasions, he never allowed the slightest insolence from the men of his own vessel. But now the officer was numb, paralyzed. He was guilty—and he knew it.
For hours they sat now in silence, the seaman holding the boat steady before the northeaster, which grew in power until by nine in the morning it was blowing a furious gale, and the sea was running strongly with sweeping combers. There was nothing to do but keep the boat before it. To try to head any other way meant to risk her filling from a bursting sea. The exertion of steering was great. The seaman, with set face, held onto the oar, and James could see the sweat start under the constant strain, but he said nothing—he waited.
"You'll have to take her, sir—a while—I'm getting played out," panted the man.
"All right," said James, "give her to me—now——"
He took the oar during the backward slant as she dropped down the side of the sea that passed under her. He was ready for the rush as she rose and shot forward again upon the breaking crest of the following hill. The exercise did him good. It made him think clearly, it took his mind from the hopelessness of his life.