moorings and push off with the oars was the work of a very few minutes. Then Dennis took the oars and bent to them with all his strength while the doctor and the baroness sat overwhelmed and dazed with their misery.
As Dennis pulled away he looked at the fated craft as she slowly settled down to her last repose. The sea was now quiet enough and the sky above pearly and pure. They had not much provisions, but that did not occupy his mind now; he only thought to get as far away as possible from that doomed vessel, and therefore pulled lustily.
The George Washington was settling down steadily, for her holds were now filled with water, and her rails were nearly level with the sea. A few moments she seemed to pause, as if considering how best to make her exit, and then, with a report like a cannon, her decks burst open with the imprisoned air, while objects flew up into the clear space.
The end came almost at once. With a sudden bound she seemed to lift herself clear up out of the water, and next, like a graceful duck diving, she plunged, bow-first, down out of sight, leaving a wild whirlpool behind her.
"There goes the last of that craft," said Dennis sentimentally, resting on his oars.
"It seems, doctor, as if the Cause isn't fated to keep a ship of their own unless they purchase her in a legitimate fashion."
The doctor bit his lips but said nothing, while Dennis continued,—
"First the Rockhampton went to smash, and next the George Washington. If we get out of this present scrape, I vote that we keep good faith with our rescuers until we reach dry land. Anarchy isn't a paying game on the high seas."
