with the Clan Macgregor's screw, to what
effect has already been indicated. Hours later a larger mass came along,
under the impulsion of half a gale, and punched a hole through the
leviathan's port side as if it were but paper, just far enough above the
water-line so that every alternate wave could make an easy entry.

The Tyro came up out of deep slumber with a plunge. He heard cries from
without, and a strongly bawled order. Above him there was a scurry of
feet. The engines stopped. Three bells struck just as if nothing had
happened. He opened his door and the coldest water he had ever felt on
his skin closed about his feet. The passageway was awash.

Jumping into enough clothing to escape the rigor of the law, the Tyro
ran across to 129 D and knocked on the door. It opened. Little Miss
Grouch stood there. Her eyes were sweet with sleep. A long, soft, fluffy
white coat fell to her little bare feet. Her hair, half-loosed,
clustered warmly close to the flushed warmth of her face. The Tyro
stood, stricken for the moment into silence and forgetfulness by the
power of her beauty.

"What is it?" she asked softly.

He found speech. "Something has happened to the ship."

"I knew you'd come," she said with quiet confidence.

"Aren't you afraid?"

"I _was_ afraid."

A roll of the ship brought the chill water up about her feet. She
shivered and winced. Stooping he caught her under the knees, and lifted
her to his arms. Feeling the easy buoyancy of his strength beneath her,
she lapsed against his shoulder, wholly trustful, wholly content.
Through the passage he splashed, around the turn, and up the broad
companionway. Not until he had found a chair in the near corner of the
lower saloon did he set her down. Released from his arms, she realized
with a swift shock the loss of all sense of security. She shot a quick
glance at him, half terrified, half wistful. But the Tyro was now all
for action.

"What clothes do you most need?" he asked sharply.

"Clothes? I don't know." She found it hard to adjust the tumult which
had suddenly sprung up within her, to such considerations.

"Shoes and stockings. A heavy coat. Your warmest dress--where is it?
What else?"

"What are you going to do?"

"Go back after your things."

"You mustn't! I won't let you. It's dangerous."

"Later it may be. Not now."

She stretched out her hands to him. "Please don't leave me."

He took the imploring little hands in his own firm grip. "Li