e bridge.

"Mr. Howland," said Dan, as the owner approached him, "I suppose Miss
Howland has told you our fix."

"Yes, but she has told no one else."

"Bully for her!" exclaimed Dan.

"She said you were hopeful."

"More so now than ever before, I was making for the beach, but
now--there's a steamship coming down on us. I wasn't sure at first, I
am now. That smoke out there is heading dead for us. I am going to
slow the boat down to steerage way and wait for her to come up. It's
better than trying to make for Assateague; it's better to wait."

"Will the bulkhead hold?"

Mr. Howland asked his question in the even monotone which had
characterized all his questions.

"I think so; if it doesn't, we'll get everybody off in the rafts and
the launch; the sea is going down by the minute."

Mr. Howland glanced down at the deck where the crew of Scandinavians,
inspired by the cool, cheerful commands of their new Captain, were
working nonchalantly in preparing for eventualities. From amidships
came the clatter of men trying to repair the launch, the one boat which
had not been carried away in the night's storm. Others were clearing
the life rafts so they could be launched without delay. He glanced at
Dan with admiring eyes.

"I want to compliment you, Captain Merrithew," he said. "You have your
crew well in hand."

"Thank you," replied Dan, "if you will keep your party in hand there'll
be no danger at all. I don't care what happens, with the sea falling."

Another half-hour. The steamship, a stout coaster, had now climbed
over the horizon. Mr. Howland, through the glasses, had picked out her
red-and-black funnel and recognized her as one of his own boats. But
it had plainly come to a race between the steamship and the straining
bulkhead. No need now to tell any one of the situation. The _Veiled
Ladye_ was plainly settling astern. The engine-room bulkhead was
quivering, ready to break. Arthur and his men had piled up from the
engine-room, the engines still pulsing with no one to watch them. The
sailors were splendid, going about their work quietly, calmly. They
had carried the injured mate, groaning with his broken leg, to the
deck. Mrs. Van Vleck, Mr. Rowland's sister, the chaperone, sat with
her niece's arms about her, passing in and out of successive attacks of
hysteria. A sailor had knocked one of the young men of the party down
to quiet an incipient exhibition of panic. Ralph Oddington and
R