It was the Kangaroo
driving right over the remains of the whaler.
In a very few seconds it was done, and looking astern, Augusta could just
make out something black that seemed to float for a second or two upon
the water, and then disappear into its depths. It was the shattered hull
of the whaler.
Then there arose a faint murmuring sound, that grew first into a hum,
then into a roar, and then into a clamour that rent the skies, and up
from every hatchway and cabin in the great ship, human beings--men,
women, and children--came rushing and tumbling, with faces white with
terror--white as their night-gear. Some were absolutely naked, having
slipped off their night-dress and had no time to put on anything else;
some had put on ulsters and great-coats, others had blankets thrown round
them or carried their clothes in their hands. Up they came, hundreds and
hundreds of them (for there were a thousand souls on board the Kangaroo),
pouring aft like terrified spirits flying from the mouth of Hell, and
from them arose such a hideous clamour as few have lived to hear.
Augusta clung to the nettings to let the rush go by, trying to collect
her scattered senses and to prevent herself from catching the dreadful
contagion of the panic.
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