The captain was on the half wrecked bridge above. The boy noticed how
quiet he was, yet his voice rang over the tumult.

"Steady, men, steady. Keep your stations. Stand by. Be ready."

The old quartermaster whose business it was to tell the hours saluted
the captain.

"Eight bells, sir," he said, "midnight. Christmas day," he added.

"Strike them," said the captain.

And, as clear as ever, the four couplets rang out over the chaos and the
disaster.

"Christmas day," the boy murmured.

"She's going, men," said the captain, as the cadences died away. "Save
yourselves. Abandon the ship."

"Christmas morning," said the boy. "I wonder what they're doing at
home."

"Overboard with you, youngster," said the signal lieutenant; "I wish I
had a life-preserver for you, but--"

"Merry Christmas, sir," said the lad suddenly.

"Good God!" said the man. "Merry Christmas! They will think of us at
home."