tioned to Willy, the
deck-hand, to bring me the life preservers. "Put them on," I said to
Helena.

"Oh, I can't. I can't!" moaned the older woman. "I'm dying--let me
alone."

"Stop this nonsense, madam," said I sternly--knowing that was the only
way--"put it on at once. You too, Miss Emory, and you, my boys. Quick.
Then throw on loose wraps--all you can. It will be cold."

In spite of all my efforts to seem calm, the air of panic ran swiftly.
Mrs. Daniver awoke to swift action as she tremblingly fastened the
belt about her. Pushing past me, she reached the deck, and so mad was
she that in all likelihood she would have sprung overboard. I caught
at her, and though my clutch brought away little more than a handful
of false hair, it seemed to restore her reason though it destroyed her
coiffure. "Enough of this!" I cried to her. "Take your place by the
boat, and do as you are told." And I saw Helena pass forward, also, as
we all reached the deck, herself pale as a wraith, but with no outcry
and no spoken word. So, at last, I ranged them all near the boat that
swung ready at the davits.

"We can't all get in that," said Jean Lafitte.

"No," said I: and I did not like to look at the tiny dingey which lay
on the cabin-top, squat and tub-like, or the small ducking skiff that
here on deck was half full of water from the breaking seas.

"Peterson," said I, "take charge of the big boat here. Take Williams
to run her motor for you. And the ladies will go with you."

I turned to the two boys, and my heart leaped in pride for them both;
for when I motioned to Jimmy to make ready for the large boat, with
the ladies, he stepped back, pale as he was. "Not unless John goes,
too," said he. And they stood side by side, simply and with no outcry,
their young faces grave.

"He must go with us--Jimmy," broke out Helena yearningly: "and so must
you."

"Shut up, Auntie," exclaimed Jimmy most irreverently. "Who's a-runnin'
this boat, like to know?" Which abashed his auntie very much.

"We'll take this one," said Jean Lafitte, and already was tipping the
duck boat. "It'll carry us three if it has to." And I allowed him and
his mate to stand by, not daring to look at its inadequate shell and
again at the breaking seas.

That left the dingey for Willy and the cook. I glanced at Willy.
"Which would you rather chance?" I asked him, "the dingey or the duck
boat?"

"The dingey," said he quickly,--and we both knew the cork-like quality