leaped into the sea and swam toward it and got grasp of a sleeve and struggled back toward the ship.
The vessel's side towered above her, mighty and menacing; it swung away from her, showing a long steep slant to the gray sky; it swung back and tilted over as though to crush her; wreckage slipped from off its topmost tier and splashed into the sea beside her. She could see the cloud of gun gases puff out and clear; then the flash of firing again. All the time she was thrashing with one arm to swim in the wash beside the vessel and drag the blue-clad form. That form was heavier now; and, as her clutch numbed, it slipped from her and sank. She spun about and tried to dive, groping with her hands below the surface; but the form was gone.
"Gerry Hull!" she cried out. "I had Gerry Hull—here!"
A coil of rope struck the water near her; men yelled to her to seize it; but she groped below the water until, exhausted from the cold, she looped the rope about her and they pulled her up.
"Lieutenant Gerry Hull was in the water there," she cried to them who took her in their arms. "Lieutenant Gerry Hull is"—she shouted to the next man who took her when, looking up, she saw his face.
Silence—a marvelous stifling of the guns which had been resounding from fore and aft; a miraculous stopping of the frightful shock of the shells which had been bursting in the ship—enveloped Ruth. She did not know at first whether it was because some of her senses were gone; she could see Gerry Hull's face, feel his arms holding her and the rhythm of his body as he stepped, carrying her;
