but that made the modest comforts of the
half-deck seem more inviting by comparison; and we came together for
our weekly "sing-song"--all but Gregson, whose turn it was to stand the
lookout on the fo'c'sle-head.

The flag was brought out and hung up--Jones standing by to see that no
pipe-lights were brought near--and we ranted at "Ye Mariners of
England" till the mate sent word that further din would mean a
"work-up" job for all of us.

Little we thought that we mariners would soon be facing dangers as
great as any we so glibly sang about. Even as we sang, the _Hilda_ was
speeding on a fatal course! Across her track the almost submerged hull
of a derelict lay drifting. Black night veiled the danger from the
keenest eyes.

A frenzied order from the poop put a stunning period to our merriment.
"Helm up, f'r God's sake! . . . _Up_!--_oh God_!--_Up_! _Up_!" A
furious impact dashed us to the deck. Staggering, bruised, and
bleeding, we struggled to our feet. Outside the yells of fear-stricken
men mingled with hoarse orders, the crash of spars hurtling from aloft
vied with the thunder of canvas, as the doomed barque swung round
broadside to the wind and sea.

Even in that dread moment Jones had heed of his precious flag. As we
flew to the door, he tore the flag down, stuffing it in his jumper as
he joined us at the boats.

There was no time to hoist out the life-boats--it was pinnace and gig
or nothing. Already the bows were low in the water. "She goes. She
goes!" yelled some one. "Oh, Christ! She's going!"

We bore frantically on the tackles that linked the gig, swung her out,
and lowered by the run; the mate had the pinnace in the water, men were
swarming into her. As the gig struck water, the barque heeled to the
rail awash. We crowded in, old Burke the last to leave her, and pushed
off. Our once stately _Hilda_ reeled in a swirl of broken water, and
the deep sea took her!

Sailor work! No more than ten minutes between "Ye Mariners" and the
foundering of our barque!

We lay awhile with hearts too full for words; then the pinnace drew
near, and the mate called the men. All there but one!
"Gregson!" . . . No Gregson! The bosun knew. He had seen what was
Gregson lying still under the wreck of the topmost spars.

The captain and mate conferred long together. We had no sail in the
gig, but the larger boat was fully equipped. "It's the only chance,
mister," said Burke at last. "No food--no wate