“For’ard with ye!” yelled the skipper. “The powder’s underneath you in the lazarette!”
They were gone like hunted sheep. And now abaft the flaming hatchway there were only we four surviving saloon passengers, the captain, his steward, the Zambesi negro, and the quartermaster at the wheel. The steward and the black I observed putting stores aboard the captain’s gig as it overhung the water from the stern davits.
“Now, gentlemen,” said Harris to the two of us, “I must trouble you to step forward
comfortably. Steady, old man! It’s only just been discovered; they may get it under. The panic’s the worst part at present, and we’re out of that.”
But was Eva Denison? Breathlessly I put the question; his answer was reassuring. Miss Denison was with her stepfather on the poop. “And both of ‘em as