unexpectedly. There was a sudden startled outcry as the Nebraska
struck for a second time that night. She rose slightly, rolled
and bumped, grated briefly, then came to rest.

Captain Brennan shouted from the bridge:

"Fill your life-boats, Mr. James, and lower away carefully."

A cheer rose from the huddled passengers.

The boiler-room was still dry, it seemed, for the incandescent
lights burned without a flicker, even after the grimy oilers and
stokers had come pouring up on deck.

O'Neil climbed to the bridge. "Is this Halibut Bay?" he asked
Captain Johnny.

"It is. But we're piled up on the reef outside. She may hold
fast--I hope so, for there's deep water astern, and if she slips
off she'll go down."

"I'd like to save my horses," said the younger man, wistfully.
Through all the strain of the past half-hour or more his
uppermost thought had been for them. But Brennan had no sympathy
for such sentiments.

"Hell's bells!" he exclaimed. "Don't talk of horses while we've
got women and children aboard." He hastened away to assist in
transferring his passengers.