The all-powerful instinct of
self-preservation, aided, no doubt, by the stinging, drenching showers
of spray, had gone far towards reanimating Isobel and her maid, while
Mrs. Somerville, a woman advanced in years, was able to walk, though
benumbed with the sudden cold. Courtenay unlocked the door of his
cabin. Elsie, her face pale and tear-stained, but outwardly composed,
was yet standing near the table, and the dog sprang from her arms the
moment his master appeared.
"Thank God!" she said, all of a flutter now that the solitary waiting
for a death which came not was ended. "I feared I should never see you
again. Is the ship lost?"
The wild soughing of the wind rendered her words indistinct. And the
captain had no time for explanations.
"In here!" he shouted to Gray, who had helped Isobel to enter the
chart-room, the first refuge available on this exposed deck.
"Sharp with it!" he thundered, when Isobel was unwilling to face the
storm again. The men took their cue from his imperative tone. Gray
clasped Isobel in his arms and lifted her bodily through the doorway.
The others followed his example.
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