A wail of anguish burst from the frightened women at the awful fate
that might be in store for so many human beings so near to them, and
they clung closer to their children and thanked God that no such danger
threatened them and those dear to them.

"And dammit, sir," cried the Congressman, "do you mean to tell us that
we have to go against our will--without even being consulted--back to
Queenstown?"

"I mean to tell you so, sir."

"Well, by the gods, that's an outrage, and I won't stand it, sir. I
must be in New York by the 27th. I won't stand it, sir."

"I am very sorry, sir, that anybody should be delayed."

"Delayed? Hang it all, why don't you take the people on board and take
'em to New York? I protest against this. I'll bring a lawsuit against
the company, sir."

"Mr. Vincent," said the captain sternly, "permit me to remind you that
_I_ am captain of this ship. Good afternoon, sir."

The Congressman departed from the saloon exceeding wroth, breathing
dire threats of legal proceedings against the line and the captain
personally, but most of the passengers agreed that it would be an
inhuman thing to leave the Adamant alone in mid-ocean in such terrible
straits.