ll they say in Liverpool now? I s'pose
they'll 'ear of this some day," and he jerked a thumb backwards to
indicate the unceasing hail of bullets that poured into the after part
of the ship.

The girl looked at him with an air of surprise that would have been
comical under less grievous conditions. She knew, with a vague
definiteness, that death was near, perhaps unavoidable, and it had
never occurred to her that she or any other person on board need feel
any concern about the view entertained by Liverpool as to their fate.
Before she could frame a reply, however, Hozier seemed to recover his
faculties. He stood up, walked unaided to the side of the ship, and
glanced ahead.

"Shouldn't we try to lower a boat, sir?" he asked instantly.

"Wot's the use?" growled Coke. "Oo's goin' to lower boats while them
blighters on the island are pumpin' lead into us? And wot good are the
boats w'en they're lowered? They've been drilled full of holes. You
might as well try to float a sieve. Look at that," he added
sarcastically, as the side of the cutter was ripped open by a
ricochetting shot, and splinters were littered on the deck, "they know
wot they want an' they mean to get it. Dead men tell no tales. It
won't be anybody 'ere now who'll 'ave the job of lettin' the folk at
'ome know 'ow the pore ole _Andromeda_ went under."

"Are none of the boats seaworthy?"

"Not one. They're knocked to pieces. Sorry for you, Miss Yorke. But
we're all booked for Kingdom Come. In 'arf a minnit, or less, we'll be
on the reef, an' the ship must begin to break up."

Coke was telling the plain truth, but Hozier ran aft to make sure that
he was right in assuming the extent of the boats' damages. One of the
men, an Italian, climbed to the forecastle deck in order to see more
clearly what sort of danger they were running into. He came back
instantly, and his swarthy face was green with terror. Though he spoke
English well enough, he began to jabber wildly in his mother tongue.
None paid heed to him. It was common knowledge that the vessel must be
lost, and that those who still lived when she struck would have the
alternatives of being drowned, or beaten to pieces against the frowning
rocks, or shot from the mainland like so many stranded seals, if some
alliance of luck and strength secured a momentary foothold on one of
the tiny islets that barred the way. And at such moments, when the
mind is driven into a swift-running channel