The quick settling twilight of the tropics made the waters doubly cold and dark.
Not till the bows of the _Mary Rogers_ were deep below the waves and her propeller humming loudly in the air did the captain desist from his efforts to bring order out of the panic of the crew.

Half a dozen men, with the Chinaman at their head, had cut one boat from its davits, but plunging into it before it fairly struck the water, they tipped it far to one side.

It filled instantly and sank, leaving its occupants struggling on the surface.

The Chinaman, who apparently could not swim, gave up the struggle at once.

He threw his clutching hands high above his head and went down; his scream was the first death cry of the wreck of the _Mary Rogers_.
McTee, with Harrigan at his heels, rushed for the second lifeboat.
Under the directions of the captain, pointed and emphasized by blows of his fist, the boat was swung safely from the davits and lowered to the sea.