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Perry, Lawrence, 1875-1954

"Dan Merrithew"

It
broke as a stream hit it, but its ghost, in the guise of hot gases,
choked the men.
A great roar of flame almost enveloped them, and the heat crisped their
hair and seared their bodies, and they dropped their hose and raced for
the ladder.
"Go on, men!" shouted Dan as they struggled out of the hold. "You've
done all I can ask. Hurry! Get out!" and they got out and then turned
to batten the hatch cover down. But the rush of fire was too swift to
be denied. A thick-bodied pillar choked through the opening and
spouted to the top of the funnel--great gouts of the devouring element
pulsed softly, but with lightning swiftness, down the deck, and
shrivelled a life raft. Long tongues and jets of fire were bursting
everywhere out of the forward deck.
It had come at last, just as Dan had seen it coming all through the
night--all through the years. His voice roared from the bridge:
"To the boats--every man to his station!"
The command was taken up and carried along, and noiseless shapes limned
briefly in the fire glow, scuttled quickly to their appointed places.
Mr. Howland and his party stumbled out of the saloon with blanched
faces and parted lips, but quietly.
"Women to the rail!" The cry echoed out over the sea,--over the sea,
which has heard these chivalrous words so often.


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