p, and hurled themselves, not into the sea, but
prone upon the decks! They had conquered! The scattered, vagrant fires,
attacked in their infancy, while still in the creeping stage, had been
subdued.

Darkness fell. A chill night air stole out of the east, stealthily
trailing the sun. Will-o'-the-wisp lights bespecked the sea, surrounding
the black hulk that lay motionless in the center of the circle. Lanterns
in a score or more of small boats bobbed fitfully in the gentle swell.
Presently lights appeared on board the Doraine, one here, one there,
then others in twos and threes,--some of them stationary, others moving
slowly from place to place. The life-boats crept closer, still closer.
Then, out from the silent hulk, came the voice of man. It was the
voice of the First Officer, hoarse and unrecognizable, but sharp with
authority. Other voices repeated the commands from various parts of the
ship,--commands to the encircling will-o'-the-wisps.

The word came down to the scores who filled the boats that they were to
lie by until sunrise, keeping in close contact with each other and at no
great distance from the ship. The most thorough, careful examination of
the steamer was in progress. If it was found that she was in no danger
of foundering,--and the word was most reassuring,--all of them would
be taken aboard in the morning. Nothing could be done at present. A few
hours more would tell the tale.

And then, for the first time since the disaster, the note of the croaker
was heard. Each and every boat contained at least one individual who
knew exactly what ought to be done in a crisis like this.

Mr. Landover addressed the benumbed, unresisting occupants of the boat
into which he had climbed with commendable reluctance as one of the last
persons to leave the ship.

"Why don't they begin sending out S. O. S. calls? What's the wireless
for, if not to be used at a time like this? Say, you! Yell up there to
some of those damned muddled-headed idiots and tell them what to do.
Tell them that I say for them to send out calls for help. What's that?
What did you say?"

The steward in charge of the boat repeated his remark and Mr. Landover
at once said he would report him to Captain Trigger.

"But it won't do any good," complained the banker despairingly. "Captain
Trigger hasn't got the backbone of a fishworm. He'd let you tell him to
go to hell and never think of jacking you up for it. No wonder we're
in the fix we're in n