372 THE FAT OF THE LAND 



mast broken flush with its deck, and its helpless 

 body the sport of the cruel waves. 



The light did not last longer than it would take 

 me to count five, but in that time I saw four 

 figures that will always haunt me. Two sailors 

 in yachting costume were struggling hopelessly 

 with the tiller, and the wild terror of their faces 

 as they saw the huge destruction that hung over 

 them is simply unforgettable. 



The other two were different. A strong, blond 

 man, young, handsome, and brave I know, stood 

 bareheaded in front of the cockpit. With a sud- 

 den, vehement motion he drew the head of a girl 

 to his breast and held it there as if to shut out 

 the horrible world. There was no fear in his 

 face, just pain and distress that he was unable 

 to do more. I am thankful that I did not see 

 the face of the girl. Her brown hair has floated 

 in my dreams until I have cried out for help ; 

 what would her face have done ? 



In the twinkling of an eye it was over. I heard 

 a sound as when one breaks an egg on the edge 

 of a cup, no more. I screamed with horror, 

 ran across the guarded plank, climbed the gate, 

 and fell headlong and screaming over the donkey- 

 engine. Picking up my battered self, I shouted: 



" Bahrens ! Bahrens ! for God's sake, help ! 

 Man overboard ! Stop the ship ! " 



I readied the ladder to the bridge just as the 

 captain came out of the chart house. 



" For God's sake, stop the ship ! You've run 



