I shall keep right on and
shave his bows." The liner is going at nineteen knots, the schooner is
romping along at eight--yet the liner cannot clear the little vessel.
There comes a fresh gust of wind; the sailing vessel lies over to it,
and just touches the floating hotel amidships--but the touch is enough
to open a breach big enough for a coach and four to go through. The
steamer's head is laid for the land and every ounce of steam is put on,
but she settles and settles more and more. And now what about the
thirteen boats for a thousand people? There is a wild scuffling, wild
outcry. Women bite their lips and-try, with divine patience, to crush
down all appearance of fear, and to keep their limbs from trembling;
some unruly fellows are kept in check only by terror of the revolver;
and the officers remember that their fair name and their hope of earthly
redemption are at stake. In one case of this sort it took three mortal
hours to ferry the passengers and crew over smooth water to the
rescuing vessel; and those rescued folk may think themselves the most
fortunate of all created souls, for, if the liner had been hit with an
impetus of a few more tons, very few on board of her would have lived to
tell the tale.
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