Lavelle spoke in almost a normal tone. Whether it was what he said or what he saw in Lavelle's face that stilled the panic in the youngster's heart no one will ever know. But when Lavelle let him go and beckoned to him to follow him the quartermaster went at his side.

"Everything's gone for'ard!" he yelled at Lavelle above the noise. "Windjammer—big lumberman—no lights—piled into us! Foremast came over—by the board! Bridge—Old Man—chart house—everybody—everything gone!"

Lavelle snatched these things visually out of the blackness even as the boy shouted.

The Cambodia rolled back slowly to starboard, but one who knew what Lavelle knew could feel the life going out of her. Her engines had stopped.

The shape of a sailing vessel—a bark—drew away over on the starboard side and the grinding of metal against metal ceased only to have its place taken by the thunder of the Cambodia beginning to exhaust. Lavelle could hear and feel the stranger ripping at the steamer as she went by. The Cambodia gave a lurch like a drunken man getting out of a gutter.

"She's going!" he shouted in the boy's ear, snatching his head to his lips. "Engineers—all officers report here! Me! Find out what water's in her! Find out how long lights'll last! Tell 'em give us plenty of light. Be a man!"

The boy fled and Lavelle ran up to starboard and bawled against the night:

"Stand by if you're able! Stand by!" There was an answering cry, but all he caught was—"Hell!"

Groping he found an electric cluster on each side of the social hall house and flashed it on. He ran aft and flashed on similar clusters on the sides of the smoke-room house. These lights embraced the eight small boats davited along the Cambodia's sides.

From below men began to come by twos and threes, some supporting women on their arms, some carrying them, some carrying children, some alone with fear tangling their feet and some half curiously. One came lighting a cigarette—a fair-faced young chap—and Lavelle grabbed him in the social hall gangway and told him to let only women and children pass.

"Right O!" was his answer and he took off his coat and threw it away, accepting his task.

The glow of a man who would be obeyed was on Lavelle's brow. Men knew he spoke with the voice of authority and heeded it. They saw the purser refuse to hold the 

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