With a final lurch forward the ship went down, and the waves at last had their will on the seething mass in the hatchway. From secure if not comfortable quarters in the maintop Lord Francis, Jacynth, and Ronny saw the two boatloads swamped, heard the seething roar of the waters as they closed over the burning hatch, and listened with chilled hearts to the shrieks of drowning men and women that filled the air.
It seemed a long night, but it was really only three hours before, with the morning light, a steamship bound for Liverpool, after giving a fair start down channel to its charge, caught sight of the wreck and took off what at first seemed to be the only survivors.
“And,” said Jacynth, as he sat in the captain’s cabin, forgetful of his own stockingless state, and chafed Lord Onslow’s numbed hands and feet, “if we had been four strings of priceless pearls hanging on to the yardarm, they couldn’t have been more delighted to have plucked us off.”
CHAPTER XXI.
BY ADELINE SERGEANT.
“ALIVE OR DEAD.”
The Liverpool streets were, as usual, muddy, crowded, and malodorous; but had they been bowers of Elysian bliss they could not be traversed by men with gladder hearts than those of Onslow and Jacynth when they set foot on English soil. The gladness was of a sober sort, and tinged, perhaps, by anxiety for the future and sorrow for the past; but there was a natural elation, brought about by the recollections of the peril that they had escaped, and triumph in the thought of Ronny’s restoration to his mother’s arms. They took a friendly leave of the captain and officers of the ship which had brought them to Liverpool, and then proceeded to the nearest hotel, where they intended to stay for a few hours only, in order to replenish their pockets and wardrobes.
“Shall we telegraph to Fenella?” Frank asked wistfully; and Jacynth replied, in a brisker tone:
“Why, of course, or she will be hearing some garbled version of the shipwreck story, and will imagine that she has lost Ronny forever.”
“Don’t put too much in the telegram,” said Lord Francis, still in an uncertain voice. “‘Ronny safe and well; we are bringing him back to you to-day.’ And Jacynth, old man, sign it with both our names. She owes his safety to you rather than to me. Sign it by your name alone, if you like. I have no right Jacynth stood silent for a moment. Onslow was generous, but did he not, after all, speak truth? Surely he—Jacynth—had some right to Fenella’s gratitude; it was all that would be left to him when the husband and wife were reconciled. He felt sure that that reconciliation would take place, and no place would then be left for him save that of a useful friend. Yes, he was tempted for a moment to claim the whole of Fenella’s gratitude for the safety of her boy. But how could he let Frank Onslow be more generous than himself? He laughed slightly when that little pause was ended, and shook his head.