ess, dressed only in pants and shirt,
towered over the light of a candle which he held in a hand that shook.

"A collision! Junk rammed us! Get up quick! Don't know damage. Call
Miss Vost! Get on deck! Take care of her! My hands filled with this
dam' boat."

Peter snatched his clothes, and before he was out of his pajamas the
_Hankow_ began to keel over. It slid down, until the port-hole dipped
into the muddy current. Water slopped in and drenched his knees and
feet.

He yanked open the door, not stopping to lace his shoes, and called
Miss Vost. She had heard the excitement, and was dressing. The floor
lurched again, and he was thrown violently against a sharp-edged post.

Miss Vost's door was flung open, and she stumbled down the sloping
floor, bracing her hands against his chest to catch herself.

"We're sinking," she said without fear.

To Peter it was evident that Miss Vost had never been through the
capsizing of a ship before. He fancied he caught a thrill of eager,
almost exultant, excitement in her voice. In that vestibule, he knew
they were rats in a water-trap, or soon would be.

He still felt weak and limp from his fall against the post, and he was
trying hard to regain his strength before they began their perilous
ascent to the deck.

Miss Vost misunderstood his hesitancy.

"I am not afraid, not a bit!" she declared, holding with both hands the
folds of his unbuttoned shirt. "I am never afraid with _you_! When I
am in danger, you--you are always near. It--it seems that you were put
here to--to look after me. But there is no danger--is there?" She
shook him almost playfully.

"Cut out your babbling," he snapped. "Get to that stairway!"

He heard the breath hiss in between her teeth. But she clung to his
arm obediently. They sprawled and slipped in the darkness to the
stairs. Clinging to the railing, they reached the deck, which was
inclined so steeply that they clung to the cabin-rail for support.

In the dark on all sides of them coolies shouted in high-pitched
voices. Heavy rain was falling, drumming on the deck. The odor of
wood rubbing against steel persisted. They could see nothing. The
world was dark, and filled with contusion.

A sharp explosion took place in the bows. Chains screamed through the
air and clanged on metal and wood. One of the forward anchor-chains
had parted.

The deck was tilted again. Bobbie MacLaurin was not in evidence.
Peter shouted for