“You must come with me!” I ordered. “Go with Mr. Kinney to the lower deck. I will bring that rowboat under the stern. You will jump into it.     

       “I cannot leave my brother!” said Lady Moya.     

       Upon the word, as though shot from a cannon, the human whirlpool that was sweeping the deck amidships cast out Stumps and hurled him toward us. His sister gave a little cry of relief. Stumps recovered his balance and shook himself like a dog that has been in the water.     

       “Thought I’d never get out of it alive!” he remarked complacently. In the darkness I could not see his face, but I was sure he was still vaguely smiling. “Worse than a foot-ball night!” he exclaimed; “worse than Mafeking night!”      

       His sister pointed to the yawl.     

       “This gentleman is going to bring that boat here and take us away in it,”        she told him. “We had better go when we can!”      

       “Right ho!” assented Stumps cheerfully. “How about Phil? He’s just behind me.”      

       As he spoke, only a few yards from us a peevish voice pierced the tumult.     

       “I tell you,” it cried, “you must find Lord Ivy! If Lord Ivy—”      

       A voice with a strong and brutal American accent yelled in answer: “To hell with Lord Ivy!”      

       Lady Moya chuckled.     

       “Get to the lower deck!” I commanded. “I am going for the yawl.”      

       As I slipped my leg over the rail I heard Lord Ivy say: “I’ll find Phil and meet you.”      

       I dropped and caught the rail of the deck below, and, hanging from it, shoved with my knees and fell into the water. Two strokes brought me to the yawl, and, scrambling into her and casting her off, I paddled back to the steamer. As I lay under the stern I heard from the lower deck the voice of Kinney raised importantly.     

       “Ladies first!” he cried. “Her ladyship first, I mean,” he corrected. Even on leaving what he believed to be a sinking ship, 

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