Page:How the Mail Steamer Went Down.pdf/4

 while the passengers stood aloof, so that the sailors were used to having their own way. At this juncture there was a maddened host of cowardly men and hysterical women to be dealt with. I forced my way forward toward one of the starboard boats, and as I thrust my way through the crush, an Irishwoman clung to me with one arm, while she held up a shivering baby with the other. The woman was nearly naked, but she never heeded the cold. 'Mother of God,' she cried, 'take my little one, and make sure of him.' I shook her off and pushed on. A terrified navvy sought to keep me back, and he scratched at my face like a cat; but I reached the davits. The men had the boat swung round, and the carpenter was about to let her run, when a mixed mob of English and foreigners took possession, and in an instant the little craft was packed with a weltering heap of men who had quite lost their senses. I saw the captain leave the bridge with a flying spring, and I saw also the gleam of the pistol barrels; then I heard on the starboard side the rapid 'Smash, smash' of a revolver-shot, and the captain shouted, 'You hear what they're getting on the other side! Out of it, or I take you one after the other.' The sailors were fighting hard, but the men in the boat fought also with the oars and boathooks; one seaman had his head split; another received a wound from a boathook which took his cheek away in one nasty flap.

Still the ruffians did not know how to lower away, and one of them began to lash at the forward fall with an axe. 'Come down, you sir.' 'You be d—d.' Crack! The man flung up his arms, dropped his axe, and fell headlong into the sea. 'Now down with you,' said the captain, livid and half-blind with fury. But no. A furious fool succeeded in letting the boat go by the head and the whole crowd of poltroons were dumped into the swashing sea, where they gasped and struggled till the last two men throttled each other and rolled under. One of the starboard boats was successfully launched, and the chief officer stood, revolver in hand. 'Women first here. Thompson, you will steer her. Take four men, and no more.' The young English lady was lowered down, although she clung hard to her father and begged him to let her stay. 'No, darling, good-bye. Be happy!' he said, and then stood composedly amid the hurly-burly. A pretty actress and two Irish women were next sent down; then four children were put in, and then the sailors sprang over the side and prepared to help others. An Irishman shouted, 'Now, boys!' His voice seemed to send an impulse through the crowd, and the roughs tore themselves away from the women, and flung themselves recklessly—some into the boat, some into the water. The officer fired two barrels and missed each time; a sailor shoved off, and we saw an overladen boat lumber heavily away astern.

All this scene of horror took place in less than two minutes, and the ship settled more and more every second. The prize fighter and his gang were not successful in their attempt to steal the boat forward. The purser and the steward armed themselves with firemen's rods and beat the fellows down; then the baker—a quick young lad, who had learned his business as a seaman in addition to his trade—let the boat slip, and four gallant men withstood the ferocious rowdies until eighteen women had been pitched over the side and carelessly lowered. A seaman took the tiller; four stokers, the purser, and the baker jumped in at the last moment, and this second boat went adrift. Meanwhile the captain had reloaded—alas! what a pity he only had two barrels—and a third and fourth boat went off with half their proper complement. Another boatload might have escaped, but six men sprang from the port side, and actually stove the cutter in. At last, only one light boat remained, and still there were over 700 of us jammed in the narrow space left by the awful list. The captain had dropped his hands; he could do no more. The third mate took a handspike and went smashing among the men who were wrestling around our last hope. One sailor said, 'We've stood it long enough, Tom. Let's have our turn.' And he, with three sturdy Swedes, managed to get at the davits.