hold of an awning stanchion to steady himself. It must be only a sailor dutifully standing by, before getting away in the last boat. Surely he could take care of himself. Was it not enough that he, the captain, should have done all that could be expected of mortal man, more than almost any other commander had ever done, to save his passengers and crew, hundreds of them, from a ship run down and sunk in half an hour? Was he not justified, in sight of God and man, in saving his fortune, not for himself, but for the helpless wife at home? It was all they had, on it was builded all they hoped for. He swayed in his tracks, as the warring motives pulled him this way and that.
"Oh, my wife," he gasped. "I must be the last man to leave the ship, or I must go down mit her. I cannot, no, by Gott, I cannot go to my room."
He fled aft as if the devil had tried to snare his soul. The sea caught at his heels as he ran, even on deck. Aft of the steerage deck-house, the lamp he had glimpsed was dancing in crazy circles, where two firemen were struggling with a heap
