Morris called and called, but could get no answer, while the great dead carcass of the ship rolled and laboured above, its towering mass of iron threatening to fall and crush him and his tiny craft to nothingness.

He shouted and shouted again; then in despair lashed his boat to the companion, and ran up the ladder.
Where could she have gone?
He hurried forward along the heaving, jerking deck to the main hatchway.

Here he hesitated for a moment; then, knowing that, if anywhere, she must be below, set his teeth and descended.

The saloon was a foot deep in water, which washed from side to side with a heavy, sickening splash, and there, carrying a bag in one hand, holding up her garments with the other, and wading towards him from the dry upper part of the cabin, at last he found the lady whom he sought.
"Be quick!" he shouted; "for God's sake, be quick! The ship is coming off the rock." She splashed towards him; now he had her by the hand; now they were on the deck, and now he was dragging her after him down the companion ladder.

They reached the boat, and just as the ship gave a great roll towards them, Morris seized the oars and rowed like a madman.
"Help me!" he gasped; "the current is against us." And, sitting opposite to him, she placed her hands upon his hands, pressing forward as he pulled.