his lips to ask
another question:

"Will the big ship come quick?"

"I hope so, Jackey! I think so."

"Will our own ship go down? If it goes down to the bottom of the sea,
will my Daddy be dead?"

He lifted his eyes to her face, big, innocent blue eyes, widened in
breathless anxiety. Katrine winced before them, tortured by the thought
that suffering could come so soon; that a babe like this should feel its
shaft.

"If my Daddy is dead, can I have his penknife for my own?"

No! Jackey did not realise. Thank God for that. The babe was a babe
still. Cradled in kind arms, comfortable and warm, he could dream his
little dream, build his airy castles unperturbed by the pain of others.
That one afternoon's experience had taught Katrine to be thankful for a
callousness which she would previously have condemned. Time enough for
Jackey and his kind to realise the nature of death!

"You shall have a knife, Jackey; the best that Bombay can produce. And
your Daddy, too, I hope. Couldn't you go to sleep now, dear? Put your
little thumb in your mouth, and shut your eyes, and pretend you are safe
in your bunk. I'll hold you fast."

Jackey was tired, and the suggestion appealed. He wriggled to and fro,
poked ruthlessly with elbows and knees, until he had fitted himself to
his entire satisfaction, burrowed his head beneath the lapel of
Katrine's coat, and relapsed into limp and weighty slumber. Katrine was
tired too; tired with a very extremity of fatigue, but not for worlds
would she have relinquished the weight of that burden.

Presently Mrs Mannering held a flask to her lips and she felt the hot
smart of brandy,--just one sip, and then the flask was withdrawn, for
Nancy Mannering was jealous of her stores, not knowing for how long they
might be needed. There were biscuits also in those capacious pockets,
bars of chocolate, and fruit taken from the saloon tables, but no adult
passenger in the boat was treated to these luxuries; they were reserved
for the embryo men and women of the future.

The boat drifted on, the men for the most part resting upon their oars.
It was not desired to float far from the ship, since the best hope of
rescue lay in keeping in her vicinity. The fog was slowly lightening,
and the flare of the electric lights showed a faint gold patch through
the grey. Katrine kept her eyes fixed on that patch. So long as it
continued, she could hold on to hope. If it died out, so would the
lig