"On the background of flames twisting in fierce tongues above their
heads they seemed at home like salamanders, and looked like a band
of desperate pirates. The fire sparkled in the whites of their eyes,
gleamed on patches of white skin seen through the torn shirts. Each
had the marks as of a battle about him--bandaged heads, tied-up arms, a
strip of dirty rag round a knee--and each man had a bottle between his
legs and a chunk of cheese in his hand. Mahon got up. With his handsome
and disreputable head, his hooked profile, his long white beard, and
with an uncorked bottle in his hand, he resembled one of those reckless
sea-robbers of old making merry amidst violence and disaster. 'The last
meal on board,' he explained solemnly. 'We had nothing to eat all
day, and it was no use leaving all this.' He flourished the bottle and
indicated the sleeping skipper. 'He said he couldn't swallow anything,
so I got him to lie down,' he went on; and as I stared, 'I don't know
whether you are aware, young fellow, the man had no sleep to speak of
for days--and there will be dam' little sleep in the boats.' 'There
will be no boats by-and-by if you fool about much longer,' I said,
indignantly. I walked up to the skipper and shook him by the shoulder.
At last he opened his eyes, but did not move. 'Time to leave her, sir,'
I said, quietly.

"He got up painfully, looked at the flames, at the sea sparkling round
the ship, and black, black as ink farther away; he looked at the stars
shining dim through a thin veil of smoke in a sky black, black as
Erebus.

"'Youngest first,' he said.

"And the ordinary seaman, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand,
got up, clambered over the taffrail, and vanished. Others followed. One,