ght the order have been addressed to a flock of sheep. They
heard what was said in an agonized silence. Then each poor soul there
stretched out his arms or hers, and clamored to be saved--and--never
mind the rest. And meanwhile the flames bit deeper and deeper into the
fabric of the steamer, and the breath of them grew more searching, as
the roaring gale blew them into strength.

"You ruddy Dutchmen," shouted the second mate. "It would serve you
blooming well right if you were left to be frizzled up into one big
sausage stew together. However, we'll see if kindness can't tame you a
bit yet." He waited till the swirl of a sea swung his boat under one of
the dangling davit falls, and caught hold of it, and climbed nimbly on
board. Then he proceeded to clear a space by the primitive method of
crashing his fist into every face within reach.

"Now then," he shouted, "if there are any sailormen here worth their
salt, let them come and help. Am I to break up the whole of this ship's
company by myself?"

Gradually, by ones and twos, the _Grosser Carl's_ remaining officers and
deck hands came shamefacedly toward this new nucleus of authority and
order, and then the real work began. The emigrants, with sea sights and
sea usage new to them, were still full of the unreasoning panic of
cattle, and like cattle they were herded and handled, and their women
and young cut out from the general mob. These last were got into the
swaying, dancing boats as tenderly as might be, and the men were bidden
to watch, and wait their turn. When they grew restive, as the scorching
fire drew more near, they were beaten savagely; the _Grosser Carl's_
crew, with the shame of their own panic still raw on them, knew no
mercy; and the second mate of the _Flamingo_, who stood against a davit,
insulted them all with impartial cheerfulness. He was a very apt pupil,
this young man, of that master of ruling men at the expense of their
feelings, Captain Owen Kettle.

Meanwhile the two lifeboats took one risky journey after another, being
drawn up to their own ship by a chattering winch, discharging their
draggled freight with dexterity and little ceremony, and then laboring
back under oars for another. The light of the burning steamer turned a
great sphere of night into day, and the heat from her made the sweat
pour down the faces of the toiling men, though the gale still roared,
and the icy spindrift still whipped and stung. On the _Flamingo_,
Captain Kettl