ere turned out
and the boat was swung clear of the ship's side.

Vandover looked out and below him and then made an involuntary movement
to regain the ship's deck. Far below him, or so at least it seemed, were
mountains of tumbling green water, huge, relentless, irresistible,
rushing on by thousands, to shatter themselves with dreadful force
against the ship's side. It seemed simple madness to attempt to launch
the boat; even the sinking wreck would be safer than this chance.
Vandover was terrified, again deserted by all his calmness and
self-restraint.

The sailors standing in the bow and the stern let out the ropes little
by little, the vast black hulk of the ship began to loom up above them
all, higher and higher, and to their eyes the lifeboat began to grow
smaller and smaller, more and more frail, more and more pitiful.

All at once it struck the water with a crash, in an instant it was
tossed up again in the air, heaving on the crest of a wave, was carried
in and dashed up against the ship, all the oars on that side snapping in
an instant. It was a fearful moment; the little boat was unmanageable in
an instant, leaping and plunging among the waves like a terrified horse,
banged and battered between the heaving water and the hull of the
steamer itself. Vandover believed that all was over; he partially rose
from his seat preparing to jump before the boat should swamp.

There was an interval of shouting and confusion, the first engineer and
the crew leaning over the sides fending off the boat with the stumps of
the oars and with long boathooks. Some oars were shipped to the other
side to take the place of the broken ones, and a score of hands tugging
at them, the boat was at length pulled away out of danger.

The lifeboat had been built to hold thirty-five people; more than forty
had crowded into it, and it needed all prudence and care to keep it
afloat in the heavy seas that were running. The sailors and two of the
passengers were at the oars, while the first engineer took command,
standing in the stern at the steering-oar. He was dressed in a suit of
oilskins, a life-preserver strapped under his arms; he wore no hat, and
at every gust his drenched hair and beard whipped across his face.

Just as the boat was pulling away from the wreck, Vandover and the
others saw the little Jew of the plush cap with the ear-laps standing
upon the rail of the steamer, holding to a stanchion. He believed that
he had been aband