said. "Meet her now! Meet her, Paul! Steady! Ease her—ease her! A little more!"
She could hear the bells; the clear, clanging bells beating in the engine-room calling attention to the dial directions: "Ahead! Full! Slow! Stop! . . . Astern! Half! Full! Stop!"
She could see the engine-room crew in their hot, closed room below, staring at each other, sweating and swearing with the strain or, wordless, springing to the levers to make each change, at each beat of the gong, which determined the difference between life and death for all. She could see them standing, strained and blind in their room, listening as the steel at their feet rose and feeling it drop to strike at any second and tear out the bottom—and the seas rush in over them.
"The Blenmora is beside the wreck! There is no doubt that the men are alive! They are dropping to the Blenmora! Powell has brought his bow beside the mast and under it so that the men on the mast who had the most strength have hacked the others free and dropped them to the ship. Two have dropped—three. They all seem to be gone! Now can Powell get out?
"He's moving ahead . . . moving . . . he's not aground. He's fouled the mast. His mast has fouled it and broken it off but he moves ahead! . . . He swings out! He's clear and free! . . . He has deep water!"
The voice ceased and Ellen sat on the floor, with eyes shut. She put her hands to the floor beside her to steady her. Clear . . . and deep water! He was safe; they all were safe. It was over.
"I will give you in a minute the report of the men res-
