There was much action taking place on her decks as we came close enough to see. Passengers ran about, and forms of seamen dashed fore and aft. It was evident that they were hurrying for some purpose, and that purpose showed as we noted the list to starboard the ship had. She was very low forward, and seemed to be ready to take the final plunge any moment.
Our boat had been pretty badly smashed getting her overboard, and she was leaking badly from the started seams. In that strong, rolling sea she had all she could do with the crew in her; and I fervently hoped that I would not be called upon to take passengers. Four rowing and three for relief was all right, but a dozen more would swamp her.
We came close under the Rathbone's lee. She lay broadside to the sea, and her high stern, raised as it were by her sinking head, shut off the sweep of the combers.
"Steady your oars," I commanded, as we came within a few fathoms. A man in uniform rushed to the ship's rail and hailed us through a megaphone. He was followed by several passengers.
"Can you come aboard and help us?" he bawled. "We're sinking—all the boats gone to starboard—captain killed and chief mate knocked on the head by wreckage."
"Men have refused duty," howled a man standing near him. "Mutiny aboard, and we're going down—come aboard and help us."
While they hailed, I noticed the boats to port going over the side. One had already gone down, but she had fouled her falls, and had dropped end up, smashing against the ship's side and filling. Struggling men tried to clear her, but the sea was too heavy. A life raft was pushed over the rail, and fell heavily close to us, held by a line. It surged in the lee, and, as the ship drifted down, it struck her heavily, smashing the platform.
"Don't go, sir," said Jake, in a voice that barely reached me.
"We'll have troubles enough of our own," said another.
"Shut up, there are passengers—don't you see the women?—we've got to help them," I said.