ough the din, for
Hozier was telling her not to abandon hope, as the fore part of the
ship was firmly wedged into a cleft in the rocks: they might still have
a chance when the tide dropped.

So that explained why it was so dark where a few moments ago all was
light. Iris pressed the salt water out of her burning eyes, and tried
to look up. On both sides of the narrow triangle of the forecastle
rose smooth overhanging walls, black and dripping. They were festooned
with seaweed, and every wave that curled up between the ship's plates
and the rocks was thrown back over the deck, while streams of water
fell constantly from the masses of weed. She gasped for breath. The
mere sight of this dismal cleft with its super-saturated air space made
active the choking sensation of which she was just beginning to be
aware.

"I--cannot breathe!" she sobbed, and she would have slipped off into
the welter of angry foam beneath had not Hozier tightened a protecting
arm round her waist.

"Stoop down!" he said.

She had a dim knowledge that he unbuttoned his coat and drew one of its
folds over her head. Ah, the blessed relief of it! Freed from the
stifling showers of spray, she drew a deep breath or two. How good he
was to her! How sure she was now that if he had been spared by that
disabling shell he would have saved them all!

Bent and shrouded as she was, she could see quite clearly downward.
The ship was breaking up with inconceivable rapidity. Already there
was a huge irregular vent between the fore deck and the central block
of cabins topped by the bridge. And a new horror was added to all that
had gone before. Swarms of rats were skimming up the slippery planks.
They were invading the forecastle and the forecastle deck. They came
in an irresistible army, though, fortunately for Iris's continued
sanity, the greater number scurried into the darkness of the men's
quarters.

She was watching them with fascinated eyes, though not daring to
withdraw her head from under the coat, when she heard a ghastly yell
from beneath, and an erie face appeared above the stairway. It was
Watts, mad with fright and drink.

"Save me! save me!" he screamed, and the girl shuddered as she realized
that the man did not fear death so much as he loathed the scampering
rats. He had no difficulty in climbing the steep companion, though, by
reason of the present position of all that was left of the _Andromeda_,
its pitch was thrown back to