her. "We may get wet. Can you swim?"

She shook her head.

"Never mind; I can." He found another life-belt, fitted it to his
own form, and led her out upon the deck. The scuppers were awash
now and she gasped as the sea licked her bare feet. "Cold, isn't
it?" he remarked. "But there's no time to dress, and it's just as
well, perhaps, for heavy clothes would only hamper you."

She strove to avoid the icy waters and finally paused, moaning:
"I can't! I can't go on!"

Slipping his arm about her, he bore her to the door of the main
cabin and entered. He could feel her warm, soft body quivering
against his own. She had clasped his neck so tightly that he
could scarcely breathe, but, lowering her until her feet were on
the dry carpet, he gently loosed her arms.

"Now, my dear child," he told her, "you must do exactly as I tell
you. Come! Calm yourself or I won't take you any farther." He
held her off by her shoulders. "I may have to swim with you; you
mustn't cling to me so!"

He heard her gasp and felt her draw away abruptly. Then he led
her by the hand out upon the starboard deck, and together they
made their way forward to the neighborhood of the bridge.

The lights he had seen upon coming from the forward hold were
still in view and he hailed them at the top of his voice. But