y the hazard of a quick out-throw of the
remaining boat and the chances of a grip on floating wreckage to count
upon.

On a sudden swift sheer, _Rifleman_ takes the risk. Unheeding our
warning hail, she steams across the bows and backs at a high speed: her
rounded stern jars on our hull plates, a whaler and the davits catch on
a projection and give with the ring of buckling steel--she turns on the
throw of the propellors and closes aboard with a resounding impact that
sets her living deck-load to stagger.

We lose no time. Scrambling down the life-ropes, our small company
endeavours to get foothold on her decks. The destroyer widens off at the
rebound, but by clutch of friendly hands the men are dragged aboard. One
fails to reach safety. A soldier loses grip and goes to the water. The
chief officer follows him. Tired and unstrung as he must be by the
devoted labours of the last half-hour, he is in no condition to effect a
rescue. A sudden deep rumble from within the sinking ship warns the
destroyer captain to go ahead. We are given no chance to aid our
shipmates: the propellors tear the water in a furious race that sweeps
them away, and we draw off swiftly from the side of the ship.

We are little more than clear of the settling fore-end when the last
buoyant breath of _Cameronia_ is overcome. Nobly she has held afloat to
the debarking of the last man. There is no further life in her. Evenly,
steadily, as we had seen her leave the launching ways at Meadowside, she
goes down.

[Illustration: SALVAGE VESSELS OFF YARMOUTH, ISLE OF WIGHT]

XIII

THE SALVAGE SECTION

THE TIDEMASTERS

IF Royal Canute, King of England and Denmark, with his train of servile
earls and thanes, could revisit the scene of his famous object-lesson,
he would learn a new value in the tide. Suitably, he might improve his
homily by presentation of the salvage tidemasters, harnessing the rise
and fall of the stubborn element to serve their needs and heave a
foundered vessel to sight and service. He would note the cunning
guidance of strain and effort, their exact timing of the ruled and
ordered habits of the sea. As a moral, he could quote that, if tide may
not be ordered to command, it can at least be governed and impressed to
performance of a mighty service.

Recovery of ships, their gear and cargo, is no longer wholly an
application of practised seamanship. The task is burdened and
complicated by powers and conditions that call for