CHAPTER II

There is a rush to look out of the wardroom scuttles, everyone being eager with curiosity to see the new and unexpected sight.

At first there is nothing to be seen from the wardroom except the unruffled surface of the sea, still veiled in the white mist.

But when the cruiser, gradually losing way, turns to port before finally stopping, a boat comes into view on the starboard bow and soon is right on the beam, still some little distance away.

Overhead, the sea-boat's crew are already clambering over the netting into the cutter swung outboard at the davits, and the falls are manned. Quickly the boat is lowered, and as soon as she touches the water her crew have got their oars out and are pulling away rapidly in the direction of the derelict boat.

Such a forlorn object it looks, there on the friendless sea, alone and helpless. She is just drifting at the mercy of the wind and the current; there is no sail hoisted, and no attempt at getting the oars out to pull. What use, indeed, so far from any shore?

Even at this distance it can be seen that the occupants of the drifting boat are but three. This also explains why they have accepted the inevitable and resigned themselves to their fate without endeavouring to save themselves. How could three people hope to pull a heavy life-boat?

And what is more--yes, why surely! Now that one of those at the wardroom scuttles gifted with sharper eyes than the rest points out the fact the others also are able to see that he has made no mistake--two out of the three in the boat are women!

At this discovery the wardroom is cleared at once and everybody makes a bee-line for the upper deck.

The first lieutenant has already gone, some time ago. A mere floating mine is none of his business and fails to interest him, but a derelict boat with people to be picked up is a very different matter. This is his business, and no sooner is the first announcement made than he is away on deck to take charge of things.

From the quarter deck of the cruiser the officers grouped at the ship's side all with binoculars or telescopes levelled on the two boats see the cutter approach the derelict and take her in tow. In a moment more the boat's crew are pulling swiftly back to the ship.

The first lieutenant gives a brief order, and a couple of hands overhaul the gangway falls and lower the ladder to the water's edge. When it is made fast he descends and stands on the little platform at the bottom, with the surgeon at his side. The latter has already given directions to his staff in the sick bay to have everything in readiness that may be required in the way of restoratives for the strangers.

The cutter comes near, and deftly casts off the tow at the exact moment so as to allow the lifeboat to come alongside the gangway at the time when her way has practically stopped.

The first lieutenant is waiting with outstretched hand to fend off the boat, and to catch the painter, giving this a swift turn round the stanchion of the gangway so as to bring the boat to a complete standstill.

Then he jumps in quickly, followed by Dale, and the two of them assist the women out of the boat and up to the cruiser's deck. The man of the shipwrecked party requires no help. Without a word he follows in the wake of the others with so erect a figure and so firm a stride that it is evident he has suffered no great harm from his exposure.

But the two women are in much worse case than he. They are both quite young, young enough almost to be the man's daughters, though this is scarcely probable since they are so unlike him--and indeed so unlike each other also, one being tall and dark, the other of medium height and fair.

The latter, who is the younger of the two girls, is almost in a state of collapse, and Dale has to take her into his arms and carry her up the gangway. The dark one merely supports herself on Stapleton's arm, and with unsteady steps makes her way to the cruiser's deck.

Here Captain Blake is waiting to receive them, and does so with a few kindly words of welcome--a very few, because he is far too sensible to spend time in useless talk at such a moment.

"Better take them down to the wardroom, Stapleton," he advises--"that is, if you fellows won't mind. There's no fire in my cabin aft. I'll have it lighted though, and they can go there presently. Meanwhile, I'm sure you won't object to being the hosts instead of myself."

Object to it? Why the officers of the _Marathon_ cannot do enough for their poor guests. In a moment they have taken complete charge of them, and having got them down below are fussing over them in a crowd, all eagerly trying to do something that may add to the comfort of the unfortunate people. The young marine officer stokes up the fire and piles on coal to make a blazing glow, the fleet-paymaster pushes forward armchairs in a half-circle around the stove, the engineer-lieutenant and a brace of watchkeepers are bustling round to procure food and drink, and have impressed into their service the whole body of marine servants and wine stewards. Another officer has dashed off to his cabin and returned with an armful of blankets, and yet another, having summoned the wardroom messenger, is loudly impressing on that stolid youth an order to go to the galley and tell the cook to have lots of hot water ready--though exactly what he wants with hot water is not precisely clear. Hovering around these and getting in their way is a little knot of other officers of various ranks and ages who are anxious to help but cannot quite make up their minds as to the particular capacity in which they can best make themselves useful.

The doctor bundles most of them out of the room, telling them in terms more candid than polite that they are clucking around like a lot of old hens and would they be good enough to run away and play somewhere else, as they are only in the way here.

As the doctor is an autocrat under present conditions he gains his ends without any demur; but relents to the extent of permitting four or five of the more senior officers to remain and give their assistance.

Stapleton takes it for granted that he is one of these who are to stay. It is to be feared that he is not actuated simply by an altruistic desire to aid suffering humanity; there is more than a suspicion that he finds an irresistible attraction in the beautiful dark girl--at any rate, he hovers around her with every possible offer of assistance rather to the neglect of the other, whom he leaves to the tender mercies of Surgeon Dale. As for the man of the shipwrecked party he sits apart, surrounded and ministered to by those officers who are a little shy of attending on the ladies.

Possibly their shyness is accentuated by the fact that the attire of the said ladies is decidedly scanty. It is evident that they must have been surprised by whatever mischance had befallen them at a time when they were asleep in their cabins, for their garments bear witness to a hurried departure.

The older of the two girls, the dark one, has simply thrown on a heavy wadded silk kimono over her _robe de nuit_, and has thrust her dainty feet into a pair of dancing slippers. The other girl, presumably refusing to leave the ship till the last possible moment--one can almost hear her companion calling to her and urging her to make haste before it is too late--has put on boots and stockings and a skirt, with a long fur coat over all; poor enough protection, even this, for hours in an open boat! The man is in shirt and trousers, and he also appears to have found time to put on his boots without worrying about stockings.

Such is the garb in which the three make their appearance on board the _Marathon_; but the blankets collected by the thoughtful young lieutenant who went off to ransack his cabin have been called into immediate requisition and put to good purpose; and certain other gear has been turned out and put to daintier use than that for which it was originally meant; who would have dreamt, for instance, that a pair of Stapleton's football stockings would ever be graced by such a pretty pair of limbs as are encased in them now?

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