recollection. "It was a Belgian Green Star
liner, the _Westland_," he went on, "commanded by one of those
stop-for-nothing skippers. Flaherty was his name and I hope he will die
without absolution. She cut half through the old _Ferndale_ and after
the blow there was a silence like death. Next I heard the captain back
on deck shouting, `Set your engines slow ahead,' and a howl of `Yes,
yes,' answering him from her forecastle; and then a whole crowd of
people up there began making a row in the fog. They were throwing ropes
down to us in dozens, I must say. I and the captain fastened one of
them under Mrs Anthony's arms: I remember she had a sort of dim smile
on her face."

"Haul up carefully," I shouted to the people on the steamer's deck.
"You've got a woman on that line."

The captain saw her landed up there safe. And then we made a rush round
our decks to see no one was left behind. As we got back the captain
says: "Here she's gone at last, Powell; the dear old thing! Run down at
sea."

"Indeed she is gone," I said. "But it might have been worse. Shin up
this rope, sir, for God's sake. I will steady it for you."

"What are you thinking about," he says angrily. "It isn't my turn. Up
with you."

These were the last words he ever spoke on earth I suppose. I knew he
meant to be the last to leave his ship, so I swarmed up as quick as I
could, and those damned lunatics up there grab at me from above, lug me
in, drag me along aft through the row and the riot of the silliest
excitement I ever did see. Somebody hails from the bridge, "Have you
got them all on board?" and a dozen silly asses start yelling all
together, "All saved! All saved," and then that accursed Irishman on
the bridge, with me roaring No! No! till I thought my head would burst,
rings his engines astern. He rings the engines astern--I fighting like
mad to make myself heard! And of course...

I saw tears, a shower of them fall down Mr Powell's face. His voice
broke.

"The _Ferndale_ went down like a stone and Captain Anthony went down
with her, the finest man's soul that ever left a sailor's body. I raved
like a maniac, like a devil, with a lot of fools crowding round me and
asking, `Aren't you the captain?'

"I wasn't fit to tie the shoe-strings of the man you have drowned," I
screamed at them... Well! Well! I could see for myself that it was no
good lowering a boat. You couldn't have seen her alongside. No use.
And only t