am a ruined man; but the poor passengers--the poor passengers!" And he
scrambled away fiercely towards the bridge like a wounded cat along
the bough of a tree, whence in a few seconds Robert heard him shouting
orders.

A minute or so afterwards the steamer stopped. Too late the captain
had decided to sacrifice his ship and save those she carried. They were
beginning to get out the boats. Now Robert returned to the cabin where
Benita was lying senseless, and wrapped her up in a cloak and some
blankets. Then, seeing the second lifebelt on the floor, by an
afterthought he put it on, knowing that there was time to spare. Next he
lifted Benita, and feeling sure that the rush would be for the starboard
side, on which the boats were quite near the water, carried her, with
difficulty, for the slope was steep, to the port-cutter, which he knew
would be in the charge of a good man, the second officer, whom he had
seen in command there at Sunday boat-drills.

Here, as he had anticipated, the crowd was small, since most people
thought that it would not be possible to get this boat down safely to
the water; or if their powers of reflection were gone, instinct told
them so. That skilful seaman, the second officer, and his appointed
crew, were already at work lowering the cutter from the davits.

"Now," he said, "women and children first."

A number rushed in, and Robert saw that the boat would soon be full.

"I am afraid," he said, "that I must count myself a woman as I carry
one," and by a great effort, holding Benita with one arm, with the other
he let himself down the falls and, assisted by a quartermaster, gained