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 help through the murk. The pumps did their duty stanchly. But the water poured through the ill-stopped, ragged hole blown out, far down in the hull; and it gained pitilessly.

Philip and Gerald had little to do. It was only slipping into their state-room and catching up the few things lying ready; some broken sentences together there, of which Philip afterward could remember nothing except his bidding the younger boy be of good heart, for a tug from the shore or a steamer might come to their help at any moment, before they need enter the boats. Gerald used to say that in his sudden dread and bewilderment—poor little fellow!—the cheerfulness Philip managed to keep in his voice did him more good than any of the words that might have been uttered. Philip led their way through the tumbled cabin. They pressed out into the gloom and foggy chill of the open deck and halted, bidden to do so, on the outer edge of the little crowd already huddling together there, waiting—waiting for what was to come next.

After all, there were not so many to be provided for, besides the ship's officers and crew and servants. The dazed company kept bravely