“Oh, my darling!” she exclaimed; “what do you mean?”

“My darling!” he echoed, “bear it bravely.  There is great danger; but don’t be afraid—­I will save you.”

He had no doubts in making this promise; it seemed to him that he could overcome the billows for her sake—­that he could make himself stronger than the powers of nature.

“Where did you come from? from another vessel?” she asked, stretching out her arms to him again.

“I was here,” he said, taking and kissing her hands; “I was here, watching over you.  But there is no time to lose.  Let me carry you.”

“They must be saved,” returned Clara, pointing to the staterooms.  “Garcia and Coronado are there.”

Should he try to deliver those enemies from death?  He did not hesitate a moment about it, but bursting open the doors of the two rooms he shouted, “On deck with you!  Into the boats!  We are sinking!”

Next he set Clara down, passed his left arm around her waist, clung to things with his right hand, dragged her up the companionway to the quarter-deck, and lashed her to the weather shrouds, with her feet on the wooden leader.  Not a word was spoken during the five minutes occupied by this short journey.  Even while Clara was crossing the deck a frothing comber deluged her to her waist, and Thurstane had all he could do to keep her from being flung into the lee scuppers.  But once he had her fast and temporarily safe, he made a great effort to smile cheerfully, and said, “Never fear; I won’t leave you.”

“Oh! to meet to die!” she sobbed, for the strength of the water and the rage of the surrounding sea had frightened her.  “Oh, it is cruel!”

Presently she smothered her crying, and implored, “Come up here and tie yourself by my side; I want to hold your hand.”

He wondered whether she loved him again, now that she saw him; and in spite of the chilling seas and the death at hand, he thrilled warm at the thought.  He was about to obey her when Coronado and Garcia appeared, pale as two ghosts, clinging to each other, tottering and helpless.  Thurstane went to them, got the old man lashed to one of the backstays, and helped Coronado to secure himself to another.  Garcia was jabbering prayers and crying aloud like a scared child, his jaws shaking as if in a palsy.  Coronado, although seeming resolved to bear himself like an hidalgo and maintain a grim silence, his face was wilted and seamed with anxiety, as if he had become an old man in the night.  It was rather a fine sight to see him looking into the face of the storm with an air of defying death and all that it might bring; and perhaps he would have been helpful, and would have shown himself one of the bravest of the brave, had he not been prostrated by sickness.  As it was, he took little interest in the fate of others, hardly noticing Thurstane as he resumed his post beside Clara, and only addressing the girl with one word:  “Patience!”