I stood wavering, reluctant to leave her in her swoon all untended, and yet conscious that it would be wiser to ascertain the extent of our damages. Happily the decision was not forced upon me, for I saw in the distance a swinging lantern, which seemed to be advancing towards me down the corridor. I shouted, and the dim figure behind it stopped and turned the light upon me.
It was Barraclough's voice. "What has happened?" I asked.
"Struck on a reef," he roared back. "She's tight yet, I think. But where are the ladies?"
"Let me have your lantern and I'll take you to them," said I, and, thanking Providence for that signal mercy, I crossed the corridor with him. The lantern shed a benign light upon the wreck of the _boudoir_. The Princess lay where I had left her; but her eyes were open, and I made use of my flask of cognac with beneficial results. Then I was plucked by the arm, and Barraclough claimed my attention.
"Mademoiselle Trebizond is ill," he called. "Give her something. You must see to her."
Of course that was my duty, and I took such steps as seemed necessary for one of so neurotic a nature.
"She is all right," I explained. "If the ship's in no danger just now they are best here. The maid has a candle."
I returned to Princess Alix and found her recovered, and I bade her be of good cheer, shouting (for it was always shouting) that we had defied the mutineers successfully, and that we should also successfully defy the elements. Then I went back, for I had other work to do.
Barraclough informed me that the Prince had been taken to the music saloon, and Lane also was there. I therefore joined the relics of our company in that devastated chamber, and did what my skill availed to do for the injured. The Prince had been struck on the head and in the body, but the marks were not very apparent. He breathed heavily, but had still his old air of authority. Lane bubbled over with alternate fumes of petulance and passion; but he had his excuse, as he was suffering a great deal of pain. Ellison, too, wounded as he was, had dragged himself from his temporary hospital to the music-room. But one of Legrand's men had vanished, and it was supposed he had gone overboard in one of the great tides of sea that swept over the yacht. Legrand had ventured on deck, and clinging to the railings, had endeavoured to get some notion of the position of things. But he had seen and heard nothing beyond the storm.