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.  Being a brave and cool-headed woman, she presently succeeded, and with her returning clearness of vision she realized that she and all on board were in great peril.  It was clear that so frightful a collision could not have taken place without injury to their own vessel.  Nothing short of an iron-clad ram could have stood such a shock, probably they would founder in a few minutes, and all be drowned.  In a few minutes she might be dead!  Her heart stood still at the horror of the thought, but once more she recovered herself.  Well, after all, life had not been pleasant; and she had nothing to fear from another world, she had done no wrong.  Then suddenly she began to think of the others.  Where was Lady Holmhurst? and where were the boy and the nurse?  Acting upon the impulse she did not stay to realize, she ran to the saloon hatchway.  It was fairly clear now, for most of the people were on deck, and she found her way to the child’s cabin with but little difficulty.  There was a light in it, and the first glance showed her that the nurse had gone; gone, and deserted the child—­for there he lay, asleep, with a smile upon his little round face.  The shock had scarcely wakened the boy, and, knowing nothing of ship-wrecks, he had just shut his eyes and gone to sleep again.

“Dick, Dick!” she said, shaking him.

He yawned and sat up, and then threw himself down again saying, “Dick sleepy.”

“Yes, but Dick must wake up, and Auntie” (he called her “auntie”) “will take him up on deck to look for Mummy.  Won’t it be nice to go on deck in the dark.”

“Yes,” said Dick, with confidence; and Augusta took him on her knee and hurried him into such of his clothes as came handy, as quickly as she could.  On the cabin-door was a warm little pea-jacket which the child wore when it was cold.  This she put on over his blouse and flannel shirt, and then, by an after-thought, took the two blankets off his bunk and wrapped them round him.  At the foot of the nurse’s bed was a box of biscuits and some milk.  The biscuits she emptied into the pockets of her ulster, and having given the child as much of the milk as he would drink, swallowed the rest herself.  Then, pinning a shawl which lay about round her own shoulders, she took up the child and made her way with him on to the deck.  At the head of the companion she met Lord Holmhurst himself, rushing down to look after the child.