“We must do something,” Caleb replied.
“A boat couldn’t live in this sea, sir,” said the first officer despairingly.
“We must try to throw him a line.”
But upon trial it was found that it would be exceedingly hazardous to run down near enough to the wreck for that. The hull was rolling so frightfully that it might turn completely over at any moment and carry the steamer to the bottom with it should they run in too near.
CHAPTER XXXIII
IN WHICH COMRADES IN COURAGE LAUNCH THEMSELVES UPON THE DEEP
Brandon’s glass had been turned upon the figure on the wreck for the few moments during which the others had been discussing the possibility of saving the poor creature. Now he exclaimed hurriedly.
“That’s not a man—it’s a woman! Don’t you see her skirts blowing in the gale? She is alone on the wreck.”
Caleb seized his own glass again, and Mr. Bolin dived into the cabin for his.
“You’re right, lad,” the captain declared. “Either all the men have been swept overboard, or the white livered rascals have taken to the boats and abandoned her.”
But Brandon was making other discoveries. As the steamer cut through the huge waves, approaching nearer and nearer to the wreck, something about the outlines of the female figure seemed familiar to him.