"I hate it--I hate it!" she said, flinging out her hand towards the
black, heaving water. "The plunge--the choking! No one could hate it
more. But I want to DO something!"

She was turning away when he caught her hand and held her.

"Wait a second," he said. "I hate it as much as you do, but I believe we
two can keep our heads. Those who can do that may help, perhaps. Let us
try to quiet the people. As soon as I find out anything I will come to
your friends' stateroom. You are near the boats there. Then I shall go
back to the second cabin. You work on your side and I'll work on mine.
That's all."

"Thank you. Tell the Worthingtons. I'm going to the saloon deck." She
was off as she spoke.

Upon the stairway she found herself in the midst of a struggling
panic-stricken mob, tripping over each other on the steps, and clutching
at any garment nearest, to drag themselves up as they fell, or were on
the point of falling. Everyone was crying out in question and appeal.

Bettina stood still, a firm, tall obstacle, and clutched at the hysteric
woman who was hurled against her.

"I've been on deck," she said. "A tramp steamer has run into us. No one
has time to answer questions. The first thing to do is to put on warm
clothes and secure the life belts in case you need them."

At once everyone turned upon her as if she was an authority. She replied
with almost fierce determination to the torrent of words poured forth.