If the worst had happened, everyone would
be fighting for life in a few minutes. Out on deck she must get and find
out for herself what the worst was.
She was the first woman outside, though the wails and shrieks swelled
below, and half-dressed, ghastly creatures tumbled gasping up the
companion-way.
"What is it?" she heard. "My God! what's happened? Where's the Captain!
Are we going down! The boats! The boats!"
It was useless to speak to the seamen rushing by. They did not see, much
less hear! She caught sight of a man who could not be a sailor, since
he was standing still. She made her way to him, thankful that she had
managed to stop her teeth chattering.
"What has happened to us?" she said.
He turned and looked at her straitly. He was the second-cabin passenger
with the red hair.
"A tramp steamer has run into us in the fog," he answered.
"How much harm is done?"
"They are trying to find out. I am standing here on the chance of
hearing something. It is madness to ask any man questions."
They spoke to each other in short, sharp sentences, knowing there was no
time to lose.
"Are you horribly frightened?" he asked.
She stamped her foot.
"I hate it--I hate it!" she said, flinging out her hand towards the
black, heaving water.
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