We
were out there all night. In one of the boats. Katherine,--" her voice
shook a little,--"Katherine is gone. She leaped overboard. I--I saw her
go. I shall never forget it,--never. Aunt Julia's maid. For, oh, so
many years, Mr. Percival." She spoke in sharp, broken sentences, as if
breathless. "You must have been terribly burned. Your hair,--your eyes,
how bloodshot they are."

"Smoke," he said succinctly. "Singed on this side only. Really nothing
serious. I got off very lightly."

"Some of the men were frightfully burned," she said with a shudder. "I
am trying to be a nurse. There are two men in my--in my--"

"I know," he broke in hastily. "Don't talk about it, Miss Clinton. It's
corking of you to take hold like this. Corking!"

"Tell me about yourself. Where were you when it happened?"'

"I hate to admit it, but I was having a bite to eat down in the galley.
You see, they'd somehow forgotten to give me anything to eat,--in the
excitement, of course,--and I had been so busy myself it didn't occur
to me to be hungry till rather late in the day. I managed to get on
deck but not until after the bombs had all gone off. My friend, Mr.
Gray,--the Chief Engineer, you know,--was down in the engine-room.
That's how I got my hands burned. Not badly, I assure you, but--well,
they may be a little scarred. You may not know it, but Mr. Gray and I
came from the same place. Baltimore. He belonged to a fine old family
there--and he'd been very kind to me. Poor fellow! Penned in. They never
had a chance down there. He was--well, he died a few minutes after he
was dragged out here on the deck. His clothes were on fire. But let's
not talk about it. Tell me, is there anything I can do to make you more
comfort-able? Or your aunt? I'm what you might call officer of the deck
at present. Mr. Mott--"

"You ought to be in bed, Mr. Percival," she interrupted sharply. "Your
face is burned, too,--you must be suffering terribly. Wait! Now don't
tell me you are not. I know better. I've seen those other men who were
burned. I--"

"It's nothing, I tell you," he interrupted, almost roughly. "There are
dozens of men worse off than I am, and are they in bed? Not much. This
is no time to lie down, Miss Clinton, if you've got a leg to stand on.
See that little chap over there with his head and hands covered with
bandages,--and barely able to drag his feet after him? He's an American
jockey. I don't know his name. He was blown twenty or thirty fee