He knew the face which was turned pleadingly toward the steamer—the powerful glass revealed every feature clearly.
It was Milly Frank!
At the instant of Brandon’s discovery, the steamer gave a sudden roll, and he was thrown partially from his balance and his glass wavered an instant from the girl’s face.
In that instant the stern of the fated vessel came within range of his vision and he plainly saw the word “Success” painted in tarnished gold lettering upon it.
“Caleb! Caleb!” he cried, forgetting for the moment to apply the proper term of respect to the captain which, according to the quarter deck etiquette, he should have done, “that’s the Success, and the girl is the captain’s daughter!”
“Oh, it can’t be, lad!” cried the old man, unwilling to believe such a fact possible.
“It is the Success—I see her name,” Mr. Bolin declared.
“Poor little girl! poor little girl!” exclaimed the honest old sailor brokenly. “We can’t stand here and see her perish.”
“I shan’t,” Brandon affirmed, passing his own glass to Mr. Coffin.
“What can you do, lad?” queried Caleb. “The gale’s not abating a mite.”