to the husbands and fathers of those whom the gang had been hustling so roughly was a happy inspiration, and produced an immediate effect, the said husbands and fathers at once raising their voices in remonstrance, while the women also joined in, with the result that a heated altercation quickly ensued which threatened to speedily develop into a free fight. But that was only a shade less desirable than the other, wherefore, slipping his revolvers into his pockets, Dick intervened.

“Now then, below there, none of that!” he shouted. “I’ll allow no fighting. The first man who strikes a blow shall be clapped in irons. And just listen to me a moment, if you please,” he continued, as the faces below turned again toward him. “Will one of you men who seem so extraordinarily anxious to come up here kindly explain why you want to come?”

For a moment there was dead silence among the crowd, then the burly man whom Dick had struck, and who had retired crestfallen to the foot of the ladder, looked up and replied:

“The ship’s sinking—you can’t deny it—and our lives are worth just as much as other people’s. We want to have a fair chance of saving ’em, and—”

“Stop a moment,” interrupted Dick, thinking he saw a chance to create a diversion and avert the inevitable rush for a few minutes. “You say that the ship is sinking and that you want to save your lives by taking to the boats. Have you all taken the precaution to put your money and other valuables in your pockets? And have you all seen to it that you are dressed in your warmest clothes? You know,” he continued, banteringly, “if you were at this moment called to get into the boats, you would be very sorry when you afterwards remembered that in your hurry you had left all your valuables behind you. And boating in this weather is a most unpleasantly cold business, I assure you.”

A rather lengthy silence followed this speech of Dick’s. Those whom he had addressed were thinking very seriously about what he had said touching money and valuables. Probably not one of them had dreamed of adopting the precautionary measures suggested, and many of them were painfully conscious at that moment that every penny they possessed was locked up in the trunks in their cabins. Several of them began to move hesitatingly towards the deck-house entrance. Then a man who was leading the way, suddenly halted and shouted—

“Look here, mister. Tell us the plain truth, as man to man. Is this ship going to sink, or isn’t she? That’s all that we want to know.”

The question set Dick’s mind working at lightning speed. Should he or should he not deny the dreadful truth? He felt that he could not unreservedly deny it, yet, on the other hand, unreservedly to admit it might precipitate a panic. He quickly decided that the proper thing to do would be to prepare those people for the inevitable, but to do so in such a fashion as to reassure them to the utmost possible extent. Therefore he answered:

“As man to man I tell you that we hope to take this ship safely into New York harbour. But I will not attempt to conceal from you the fact that she has sustained a certain amount of damage from her collision with a mass of ice and she is leaking a bit—stop! Don’t run away until I have told you everything,” he continued, as he saw the listening crowd below bracing itself for a rush. “As I have said, the ship is leaking a bit, but the steam pumps are at work—listen! you can hear the beat of them—and the water is pouring out of her almost, if not quite, as fast as it is pouring in.” (This was very far from being the truth, and Dick knew it, but he considered that the circumstances justified the prevarication). “But it is a rule with this company, as it is with many others, that the moment a ship sustains any damage, however slight, the first step taken is to provide for the safety of passengers, and that is why you see the boats being got ready. If the leak should be found to be gaining on the pumps, ample notice will be given you, and plenty of time will be allowed for transferring everybody to the boats without rush or confusion of any kind. So now you know all that there is to know. If you take my advice you will all go to your cabins, dress yourselves in your warmest clothes, secure money and valuables about your persons, and then lie down and get a comfortable sleep. If it is considered desirable that you should be transferred to the boats you will be told so in good time. And don’t hurry. It may be hours yet before you will be summoned to the boats—if indeed you are summoned at all.”

Again Dick’s eloquence had triumphed, and this time the triumph was distinctly of a more decisive character than on the previous occasion; his candour—so far as it went—had convinced the people whom he addressed that if there was any danger at all it was certainly not imminent; and in a body they turned away, intent upon acting on his advice.

Within a minute of the disappearance of the last of the second-class passengers, a loud hissing, shearing sound rent the air, heard distinctly above the now somewhat moderated roar of the escaping steam, and, leaning far out over the rail of the promenade deck, Dick was just in time to mark the heavenward flight of a rocket—the first visible signal of distress which the Everest had thus far made—and to see it burst, high up, into a shower of brilliant red stars. It was the light shed by these stars as they floated downward that first revealed to the young officer the fact that a thin veil of haze enveloped the ship, through which, scattered here and there, were several small blocks of field ice; while away on the starboard quarter, distant about half a mile, was a much larger mass, standing perhaps two or three feet above the water’s surface, which might well be the berg that had done all the mischief. But Dick was horrified, as he stared down into the water, to note how much nearer was the surface than usual, as seen from the level of the promenade deck—quite three feet nearer, he estimated. And the ship had sunk to that extent within little more than half an hour!

The lad glanced eagerly about him. The deck below, set apart for the exclusive use of the second-class passengers, was now tenantless, but the port of every cabin was aglow with light, showing pretty conclusively that the people there were following Dick’s advice. The same held good with regard to the cabins on the promenade deck; every window—and many doors as well—revealed the fact that the occupants were busy within; but even while Cavendish looked, a few people emerged from adjacent cabins, all of them warmly clad and evidently prepared as well as they could be for the hardships of exposure in open boats. Also, far away for’ard, Dick could just distinguish that the smoke-room door was open and that men were passing in and out, their movements suggesting uneasiness and expectancy.

Again Dick glanced over the rail. The water was perfectly smooth, unwrinkled by even the faintest zephyr of a breeze, and the great ship lay almost as motionless and steady as though she were in dock. Thank God! when the moment came there ought to be no difficulty in getting the laden boats safely lowered and afloat. At the thought of the boats he glanced upward and saw that the whole of them on the starboard side were swung out and lowered sufficiently to permit of the people stepping easily into them from the deck above. Then he ran across the deck to the port side, and saw that all boats but one on that side were also ready, while the last one was even at that moment being lowered to the same level as the rest.

As Dick walked back to his station at the head of the ladder another rocket went screaming its way aloft into the black sky, and with the bursting of it the lad became conscious of the fact that the wireless was no longer insistently clamouring; there were moments now when it remained silent for quite a minute or more, followed by a few sharp cracklings, and again