sinking ship, at a time when, in the bustle, the alarm, the selfishness,
all would be apt to forget him and leave him to his death.

He tried the door in every way, he hammered at it; he shouted, he raged,
he screamed. In vain. Unfortunately the door of this cabin was of very
unusual strength and thickness.

Then he took up one of those great augers he had found in the mate's
cabin, and bored a hole in the door; through this hole he fired his
pistol, and then screamed for help. "I am shut up in the cabin. I shall
be drowned. Oh, for Christ's sake, save me! save me!" and a cold sweat of
terror poured down his whole body.

What is that?

The soft rustle of a woman's dress.

Oh, how he thanked God for that music, and the hope it gave him!

It comes toward him; it stops, the key is turned, the dress rustles away,
swift as a winged bird; he dashes at the door; it flies open.

Nobody was near. He recovered his courage in part, fetched out his bag
and his tools, and ran across to the starboard side. There he found the
captain lowering Miss Rolleston, with due care, into the cutter, and the
young lady crying; not at being shipwrecked, if you please, but at being
deserted by her maid. Jane Holt, at this trying moment, had deserted her
mistress for her husband. This was natural; but, as is the rule with
persons of that class, she had done this in the silliest and cruelest
way. Had she given half an hour's notice of her intention, Donovan might