disorder, they crowded in, none too soon! As the boat with its human
freight hung in readiness for the lowering, the remaining spar of the
_Lord Nelson_ fell with a mighty crash.

"Remember the name of your ship, lads!" Captain Macpherson's voice
seemed to anticipate a movement of panic among the seamen on deck; if
there had been any intention to "rush" the already well-loaded boat, it
was stayed. "Mr. Gillett, I'll be troubling ye for the keys to the
convicts' deck. Mr. O'Brien, get in and take charge. Steer southeast
with a bit of rag; it's your best chance to get picked up. Hold near the
ship until the other boat with the crew can come alongside. It's as well
to keep company. Are the lines clear? Let her go."

The boat was lowered and at the right moment touched a receding wave.
Captain Macpherson waited until the chief officer called out that they
were safely away, then gave his last order:

"And now, lads, ye can be lookin' to yourselves!"

They did; the master turned and with some difficulty made his way toward
the convicts' cells. Her decks soon deserted, the ship, like a living,
writhing thing, seemed to struggle and groan, as if every timber were
crying out in vain protest against the tragic consummation. But only an
irrevocable voice answered, that of the mocking sea beating harder, the
cruel sea, spotted here and there with black patches between which
splashes of light revealed the wild waves throwing high their curd in
the cold, argent glimmer. One of these illuminating dashes, as if in a
spirit of irony, moved toward the ship, almost enveloped it and showed
suddenly a number of mad, leaping human figures issuing with horrible
cries from one of the hatches.