Opening a Chestnut Burr Part 57

"Cut away all," shouted the captain from the bridge, and the boat dropped astern.

It was only by fierce effort that Gregory kept himself and Annie from being carried over the side by the surging ma.s.s, many of whom leaped blindly over, supposing the boat to be still there.

Pressing their way out they went where another boat was being launched.

Hunting followed them like a child, and was as helpless. He now commenced moaning, "O G.o.d! what shall I do? what shall I do?"

"Trust Him, and be a man. What else should you do?" said Gregory, sternly, for he was deeply disgusted at Hunting's behavior.

Around this boat the officer in charge had placed a cordon of men to keep the crowd away, and stood pistol in hand to enforce his orders.

But the boat was scarcely lowered before there was the same wild rush, mostly on the part of the crew and steerage pa.s.sengers. The officer fired and brought down the foremost, but the frenzied wretches trampled him down with those helping, together with women and children, as a herd of buffaloes might have done. They poured over into the boat, swamped it, and as the steamer moved slowly ahead, were left struggling and peris.h.i.+ng in the waves.

Gregory had put his arm around Annie and drawn her out of the crush.

Fortunately they had been at one side, so that this was possible.

"The boats are useless," he said, sadly. "There will be the same suicidal folly at every one, even if they have time to lower any more.

Come aft. That part will sink last, and there will be less suction there when the s.h.i.+p goes down. We may find something that will keep us afloat."

Annie clung to his arm and said, quietly, "I will do just as you say,"

while Hunting followed in the same maze of terror.

They had hardly got well away before a mast, with its rigging, fell where they had stood, crus.h.i.+ng many and maiming others, rendering them helpless.

"Awful! awful" shuddered Hunting, and Annie put her hands before her eyes.

An officer, with some men, now came toward them with axes, and commenced breaking up the after wheelhouse.

"Here is our best chance," said Gregory. "Let us calmly await the final moment and then do the best we can. All this broken timber will float, and we can cling to it."

The s.h.i.+p was settling fast, and had become like a log upon the water, responding slowly and heavily to the action of the waves. But under the cold, pitiless starlight of that winter night, what heartrending scenes were witnessed upon her sinking deck! Death had already laid its icy finger on many, and many more were grouped near in despairing expectation of the same fate.

While many, like Hunting, were almost paralyzed with fear, and others shrieked and cried aloud in agony--while some prayed incoherently, and others rushed back and forth as if demented--there were not wanting numerous n.o.ble examples of faith and courage. Fortunately, there were not many ladies on board, and most of these proved that woman's fort.i.tude is not a poetic fiction. One or two family groups stood near in close embrace, and some men calmly folded their arms across their b.r.e.a.s.t.s, and met their fate as G.o.d would have them.

Annie was conscious of a strange peace and hopefulness. She thrilled with the thought which she expressed to Gregory--"How soon I may see father and mother!"

She stood now with one hand on Hunting's trembling arm, for at that supreme moment her heart was very tender, and she pitied while she wondered at him. But Gregory was a tower of strength. He took her hand in both his own, and said, "I can say the same, and more. Both father and mother are awaiting me--and, Annie," he whispered, tenderly, "you, too, will be there. So, courage! 'Good neighbors,' soon."

Why did her heart beat so strangely at his words?

"O G.o.d! have mercy on me!" groaned the man who had _seemed_, but was not.

"Amen!" breathed both Annie and Gregory, fervently.

Suddenly they felt themselves lifted in the air, and, looking toward the bow, saw it going under, while what seemed a great wave came rolling toward them, bearing upon its dark crest white, agonized faces and struggling forms.

Annie gave a swift, inquiring look to Gregory. His face was turned heavenward, in calm and n.o.ble trust.

Hunting's wild cry mingled with the despairing shriek of many others, but ended in a gurgling groan as he and all sank beneath the waters.

CHAPTER x.x.xIV

UNMASKED

It seemed that they pa.s.sed through miles of water that roared around them like a cataract. But Annie and Gregory held to each other in their strong, convulsive grasp, and her belt caused him to rise with her to the surface again. A piece of the wheelhouse floated near; Gregory swam for it, and pus.h.i.+ng it to Annie helped her upon it. Hunting also grasped it. But it would not sustain the weight of all three, especially as Gregory had no preserver on.

One must leave it that the other two might escape.

"Good-by, Annie, darling," said Gregory. "We will meet again in heaven if not on earth. Cling to your plank as long as you can, and a boat may pick you up. Good-by, poor Hunting, I'm sorry for you."

"What are you going to do?" gasped Annie.

"Don't you see that this won't float all three? I shall try to find something else."

"No, no," cried Annie, "don't leave me: you have no belt on. If you go I will too."

"I once lived for your sake; now you must for mine. I may save myself; but if you leave we shall both drown. Good-by, dearest. If I reach home first, I'll watch and wait till you come."

She felt him kiss her hand where she clung to her frail support, and then he disappeared in the darkness.

"Why did you let him go?" she said to Hunting--"you who have a preserver on?"

"O G.o.d, have mercy on me!" groaned the wretched man.

Annie now gave up all hope of escape, and indeed wished to die. She was almost sure that Gregory had perished, and she felt that her best-loved ones were in heaven.

She would have permitted herself to be washed away had not a sense of duty to live until G.o.d took her life kept her firm. But every moment it seemed that her failing strength would give way, and her benumbed hands loosen their hold.

"But," she murmured in the n.o.blest triumph of faith, "I shall sink, not in these cold depths, but into my Saviour's arms."

Toward the last, when alone in the very presence of death, He seemed nearest and dearest. She could not bear to look at the dark, angry waters strewn with floating corpses. She had a sickening dread that Gregory's white face might float by. So she closed her eyes, and only thought of heaven, which was so near that its music seemed to mingle with the surging of the waves.

She tried to say a comforting word to Hunting, but the terror-stricken man could only groan mechanically, "G.o.d have mercy on me!"

Soon she began to grow numb all over. A dreamy peace pervaded her mind, and she was but partially conscious.

She was aroused by hearing her name called. Did the voice come from that sh.o.r.e beyond all dark waves of earthly trouble? At first she was not sure.

Again and louder came the cry, but too full of human agony to be a heavenly voice--

"Annie! Annie!"

"Here!" she cried, faintly, while Hunting, helpful for once, shrieked aloud above the roar of the waves.

Then she heard the sound of oars, and a moment later strong hands lifted her into the boat, and she found herself in Gregory's arms, her head pillowed on his breast. Then all grew dark.