But the child never relaxed in her efforts to please; and in the long
hours of the sea voyage the friendship between her and the man grew, and
grew. He was the biggest and strongest and therefore most lovely thing
on board the ship, and that sufficed her. As for him, the child
manifestly loved and trusted him, and that was all-in-all to his weary,
desolate heart. The fifth day out the weather began to change; the waves grew more and
more mountainous as the day wore on and the ship advanced west. Not even
the great bulk and weight of the ship, which ordinarily drove through the
seas without pitch or roll, were proof against waves so gigantic. Then
the wind grew fiercer and fiercer, coming in roaring squalls from the
south-west. Most of those on board were alarmed, for the great waves
were dreadful to see, and the sound of the wind was a trumpet-call to
fear. The sick stayed in their cabins; the rest found an interest if not a
pleasure on deck. Among the latter were the Stonehouses, who were old
travellers. Even Pearl had already had more sea-voyages than fall to
most people in their lives. As for Harold, the storm seemed to come
quite naturally to him and he paced the deck like a ship-master. It was fortunate for the passengers that most of them had at this period
of the voyage got their sea legs; otherwise walking on the slippery deck,
that seemed to heave as the rolling of the vessel threw its slopes up or
down, would have been impossible. Pearl was, like most children, pretty
sure-footed; holding fast to Harold's hand she managed to move about
ceaselessly. She absolutely refused to go with any one else. When her
mother said that she had better sit still she answered:

'But, mother, I am quite safe with The Man!' 'The Man' was the name she
had given Harold, and by which she always now spoke of him. They had had
a good many turns together, and Harold had, with the captain's
permission, taken her up on the bridge and showed her how to look out
over the 'dodger' without the wind hurting her eyes. Then came the
welcome beef-tea hour, and all who had come on deck were cheered and
warmed with the hot soup. Pearl went below, and Harold, in the shelter
of the charthouse, together with a good many others, looked out over the
wild sea. Harold, despite the wild turmoil of winds and seas around him, which
usually lifted his spirits, was sad, feeling lonely and wretched; he was
suffering from the recoil of his little friend's charming presence. Pearl
came on deck again looking for him. He did not see her, and the child,
seeing an opening for a new game, avoided both her father and mother, who
also stood in the shelter of the charthouse, and ran round behind it on
the weather side, calling a loud 'Boo!' to attract Harold's attention as
she ran. A few seconds later the _Scoriac_ put her nose into a coming wave at just
the angle which makes for the full exercise of the opposing forces. The
great wave seemed to strike the ship on the port quarter like a giant
hammer; and for an instant she stood still, trembling. Then the top of
the wave seemed to leap up and deluge her. The wind took the flying
water and threw it high in volumes of broken spray, which swept not only
the deck but the rigging as high as the top of the funnels. The child
saw the mass of water coming, and shrieking flew round the port side of
the charthouse. But just as she turned down the open space between it
and the funnel the vessel rolled to starboard. At the same moment came a
puff of wind of greater violence than ever. The child, calling out, half
in simulated half in real fear, flew down the slope. As she did so the
gale took her, and in an instant whirled her, almost touching her mother,
over the rail into the sea. Mrs. Stonehouse shrieked and sprang forward as though to follow her
child. She was held back by the strong arm of her husband. They both
slipped on the sloping deck and fell together into the scuppers. There
was a chorus of screams from all the women present. Harold, with an
instinctive understanding of the dangers yet to be encountered, seized a
red tam-o'-shanter from the head of a young girl who stood near. Her exclamation of surprise was drowned in the fearful cry 'Man
overboard!' and all rushed down to the rail and saw Harold, as he emerged
from the water, pull the red cap over his head and then swim desperately
towards the child, whose golden hair was spread on the rising wave. The instant after Pearl's being swept overboard might be seen the
splendid discipline of a well-ordered ship. Every man to his post, and
every man with a knowledge of his duty. The First Officer called to the
Quartermaster at the wheel in a voice which cut through the gale like a
trumpet:

'Hard a port! Hard!' The stern of the great ship swung away to port in time to clear the
floating child from the whirling screw, which would have cut her to
pieces in an instant. Then the Officer after tearing the engine-room
signal to 'Starboard engine full speed astern,' ran for the lifebuoy
hanging at the starboard end of the bridge. This he hurled far into the
sea. As it fell the attached rope dragged with it the signal, which so
soon as it reaches water bursts into smoke and flame--signal by day and
night. This done, and it had all been done in a couple of seconds, he
worked the electric switch of the syren, which screamed out quickly once,
twice, thrice. This is the dread sound which means 'man overboard,' and
draws to his post every man on the ship, waking or sleeping. The Captain was now on the bridge and in command, and the First Officer,
freed from his duty there, ran to the emergency boat, swung out on its
davits on the port side. All this time, though only numbered by seconds, the _Scoriac_ was turning
hard to starboard, making a great figure of eight; for it is quicker to
turn one of these great sea monsters round than to stop her in mid
career. The aim of her Captain in such cases is to bring her back to the
weather side of the floating buoy before launching the boat. On deck the anguish of the child's parents was pitiable. Close to the
rail, with her husband's arms holding her tight to it, the distressed
mother leaned out; but always moving so that she was at the nearest point
of the ship to her child. As the ship passed on it became more difficult
to see the heads. In the greater distance they seemed to be quite close
together. All at once, just as a great wave which had hidden them in the
farther trough passed on, the mother screamed out:

'She's sinking! she's sinking! Oh, God! Oh, God!' and she fell on her
knees, her horrified eyes, set in a face of ashen grey, looking out
between the rails. But at the instant all eyes saw the man's figure rise in the water as he
began to dive. There was a hush which seemed deadly; the onlookers
feared to draw breath. And then the mother's heart leaped and her cry
rang out again as two heads rose together in the waste of sea:

'He has her! He has her! He has her! Oh, thank God!