idle chance they were on the port side, and the ship, after pausing for
one awful second, fell over to starboard.

The man was not prepared for this second gyration. Even as the stairway
canted he lost his balance; they were both thrown violently through the
open hatchway, and swept off into the boiling surf. Under such
conditions thought itself was impossible. A series of impressions, a
number of fantastic pictures, were received by the benumbed faculties,
and afterwards painfully sorted out by the memory. Fear, anguish,
amazement--none of these could exist. All he knew was that the lifeless
form of a woman--for Iris had happily fainted--must be held until death
itself wrenched her from him. Then there came the headlong plunge into
the swirling sea, followed by an indefinite period of gasping oblivion.
Something that felt like a moving rock rose up beneath his feet. He was
driven clear out of the water and seemed to recognize a familiar object
rising rigid and bright close at hand. It was the binnacle pillar,
screwed to a portion of the deck which came away from the charthouse
and was rent from the upper framework by contact with the reef.

He seized this unlooked-for support with his disengaged hand. For one
fleet instant he had a confused vision of the destruction of the ship.
Both the fore and aft portions were burst asunder by the force of
compressed air. Wreckage and human forms were tossing about foolishly.
The sea pounded upon the opposing rocks with the noise of ten thousand
mighty steam-hammers.

A uniformed figure--he thought it was the captain--stretched out an
unavailing arm to clasp the queer raft which supported the sailor and
the girl. But a jealous wave rose under the platform with devilish
energy and turned it completely over, hurling the man with his