tiless sky, rolling over
just and unjust, lordly peer and choking sailor, gave them no hope;
there was a whole tragedy in the breasts of all those doomed ones--a
tragedy keen and subtle as that enacted when a Kaiser dies. You may not
think so, but I know. Forlorn hope of civilization, they met the onset
of the sea and quitted themselves like men; and, when the proud sun rose
at last, the hurrying, plundering, throbbing, straining world of men
went on as usual; the lovers spoke sweet words; the strong man rejoiced
exceedingly in his strength; the portly citizen ordered his fish for
dinner, and the dead fishermen wandered hither and thither in the dark
sea-depths, their eyes sealed with the clammy ooze.

That is an item in the cost of fish which occurs to a prosaic
arithmetician.

Lewis Ferrier had certainly much the worst so far in his defensive
battle with wind and wave. Here was a landsman on a swept hulk with a
dumb captain, a maimed man; two hands overboard, and a boy as the
available ship's company. Never mind. He got Larmor below, and the
dogged skipper made signs by hissing and moving his fist swiftly upward.
"The rockets?" Larmor nodded, and pointed to a high locker. Lewis found
the rockets easily enough; he also found a ginger-beer bottle full of
matches; but of what use would matches be in that torrent of blown
spray? The cabin was worse awash than ever, and there was no possibility
of making a fire. Ferrier felt in his inside breast pocket. Ah! the tin
box of fusees was there--all dry and sound inside. He beckoned Larmor,
and signed to him expressively; then he crouched under the hatch and
pressed the flaming ball to the root of the rocket. One swing, and the
rushing messenger was through the curtain of drift, and away in the
upper air. Larmor clapped his poor hands and bowed graciously. Two
minutes, three minutes, five minutes they waited; no reply came. With
steadiness born of grim despair the doctor sent away another rocket.
With fiercely eager eyes he and Larmor strove to pierce the lashing
mist, and then!--oh, yes, the long crimson stream flew, wavered in the
gale, and broke into scattered star-drift. Larmor and the doctor put
their arms round each other and sobbed. Then they told poor death-like
Withers, and his wan eyes flickered with the faint image of a smile.
Ferrier gave him the remainder of the wine, and the helpless seaman
patted his benefactor's hand like a pleased child.

The gale dropped as