Nevertheless, all flustered and breathless as she was, she held Walker
back when he would have left her in the shelter of her cabin.
"Do spare me one moment," she pleaded. "When I have put on dry clothing,
what am I to do? Where am I to go? I will do anything rather than
remain alone."
Walker jammed himself in the doorway to break the violence of the
unceasing deluge of spray.
"Well, missie," he said, "I'm examining the engines, Mistaw Tollemache is
fi-wing up the donkey-boiler, an' Doctaw Chwistobal is with Mistaw Boyle.
You know whe-aw the captain is, so I weckon yo' best place is the saloon."
"Dr. Christobal said you were making a raft?"
"That's wight. But when the ship got off, we tackled othaw jobs. She is
ow-ah best waft."
"And--do you think--we have any chance."
"Nevah say 'die,' missie. Owt can happen at sea."
She made a guess at the meaning of "owt."
"May I not look after some of the injured men?"
"That you can't," was Walker's prompt assurance. "You'd bettaw stick to
the saloon. I'll tell the captain yo' the-aw."
"Tell him? Are you returning to the bridge?"
"Telephone!" shouted Walker, as an unusually heavy sea caused him to slam
the door unceremoniously.
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