harbinger of hope flaunting defiance in the face of despair.

Men, stripped to the waist, grimy and shining with the sweat of hours,
moving about in knots of three and four--always in knots of three or
four as if afraid to disintegrate--leaned upon the rail and watched the
approach of the crowded boats, looked down into pallid, anguished faces
with their eager, hungry eyes, eyes that devoured the groups along the
rail. Now and then a glad shout of joy went up from one of the boats,
and a figure in the huddled mass was transformed into a responsive thing
of life.

In each of the square, black openings in the hull of the ship stood
men with ropes and ladders. The great steel doors lay flat against the
sides, swung wide to admit this time a human cargo. From the interior of
the vessel came the brisk, incessant clatter of hammers against wood and
steel; from the decks broke the loud, commanding voices of men calling
out directions; from the gliding, slapping boats went up the hearty
shouts of understanding and obedience, the rattling of boat-hooks, the
grinding of oars in the locks, the murmur of voices revived.

"Vomen and children first!" was the shrill, oft-repeated exhortation
from one of the boats.

And up in the centre of another sprang a fine, imposing figure, from
whose lips rolled these thrilling words:

"By God, they're great! They're great, after all! God bless Captain
Trigger and every man-jack of them!"

"Get down!" roared his still unpacified critic, the steward. "You'll
fall overboard, you dam' fool!"

The gaunt, coatless Mr. Mott commanded the port side of the vessel;
Mr. Codge, the purser, the starboard. Fighting men in the breeches and
leggings of the American Navy; blackened and bandaged stokers, sailors
and landsmen comprised the motley company that stood ready to drag the
occupants of the boats up into the dank, smoke-scented maw of the ship.

One by one, in regular, systematic order, the lifeboats came alongside.
There was no confusion, no bungling. They bumped gently against the
towering rows of plates, and, made fast by ropes with ample play,
gave up in time their precious cargoes. No one lifted up his voice in
rejoicing, for there were dead and injured back in the shadows; there
were grief-stricken, anxious men and women crouching out there in the
sunshine; there were limp, unconscious women and half-dead children; and
over all still hung the ominous cloud of catastrophe fat with prophecies