Very promptly the lot emerged from the lazarette, bearing cases and sacks, hams, cheeses, and so forth. They no doubt guessed they'd come to want plenty of provisions should they miss the ship they were after. They ran headlong up the ladder, none heeding us, but not above two minutes afterwards the boatswain's burly figure showed in the companion-way, and he bawled down:
'Capt'n Burke, we're all ready, and there isn't a second to lose. Ain't you going to join us along with the ladies?'
He received no reply.
He repeated the question, roaring it out in a bull-like bellowing, and then came a step or two down the ladder to stretch his neck that he might see us. I cried out:
'Are we to be left alone?' for I cannot express the horror that chilled me when I thought of the sailors leaving us to save themselves, insomuch that they might be on board another ship sailing towards the sun ere the Southern Cross was trembling in the south that night, whilst the three of us who stayed—two of them women—might go on rolling about in a wrecked and crusted hull till she grew sodden and sank, or split against an iceberg.
'Come you along with us, miss, if the captain and his wife won't leave the vessel!' cried the boatswain.
'No!' shrieked Mrs. Burke. 'Would you expose a delicate young lady in these seas in an open boat? Fools are you yourselves to go. You'll be heard of no more.'
The boatswain without another word withdrew his great developed bulk from the hatch, but he was instantly replaced by another figure, and Mr. Owen's voice, shrill with excitement and hurry, cried down: