The girl gave the twist, as directed, as hard a turn as she could make. To her horror she fancied the muscles of her wrist not quite equal to the need of that dread movement. The floor was slanting so that she was obliged to throw out her left hand to clutch at a support in order to hold herself up.
"Don't try it any longer. Get overboard, Miss Desmond, if there's yet time. In heaven's name do!" begged Jack, in a horrified tone. "I can stand going to the bottom if I don't have to drag you down with me. Escape!"
"Not and leave a fellow human being here in your plight," retorted the girl quietly, though with sublime heroism.
"But you can't save me, anyway."
"Then I'll go down at my post, just as a man would," she retorted, throwing all her frantic strength into her task. How she blamed herself that her muscles were so weak!
"Please go! There may be time."
"I'm not thinking of that. Oh, for a man's strength!"
Jack's breath was bated. His dread for himself was forgotten now, as he watched the efforts of this splendid girl.
"We'll take the last plunge at any instant, now!" screamed Jack Benson.
"There may be time for you—"
"Then there'll be time for us both," came the undaunted answer. Grace Desmond did not turn her head as she spoke, but Jack, his intense gaze upon her, knew the light that was flashing in her eyes at this moment.