The great steel doors lay flat against the sides, swung wide to admit this time a human cargo.

From the interior of the vessel came the brisk, incessant clatter of hammers against wood and steel; from the decks broke the loud, commanding voices of men calling out directions; from the gliding, slapping boats went up the hearty shouts of understanding and obedience, the rattling of boat-hooks, the grinding of oars in the locks, the murmur of voices revived.
"Vomen and children first!" was the shrill, oft-repeated exhortation from one of the boats.
And up in the centre of another sprang a fine, imposing figure, from whose lips rolled these thrilling words: "By God, they're great! They're great, after all! God bless Captain Trigger and every man-jack of them!" "Get down!" roared his still unpacified critic, the steward.

"You'll fall overboard, you dam' fool!" The gaunt, coatless Mr.Mott commanded the port side of the vessel; Mr.Codge, the purser, the starboard.

Fighting men in the breeches and leggings of the American Navy; blackened and bandaged stokers, sailors and landsmen comprised the motley company that stood ready to drag the occupants of the boats up into the dank, smoke-scented maw of the ship.
One by one, in regular, systematic order, the lifeboats came alongside.
There was no confusion, no bungling.

They bumped gently against the towering rows of plates, and, made fast by ropes with ample play, gave up in time their precious cargoes.