The _Sirdar_ had completed her last voyage. She was now a battered
wreck on a barrier reef. She hung thus for one heart-breaking second.
Then another wave, riding triumphantly through its fellows, caught the
great steamer in its tremendous grasp, carried her onward for half her
length and smashed her down on the rocks. Her back was broken. She
parted in two halves. Both sections turned completely over in the utter
wantonness of destruction, and everything--masts, funnels, boats, hull,
with every living soul on board--was at once engulfed in a maelstrom of
rushing water and far-flung spray.




CHAPTER II

THE SURVIVORS


When the _Sirdar_ parted amidships, the floor of the saloon heaved
up in the center with a mighty crash of rending woodwork and iron. Men
and women, too stupefied to sob out a prayer, were pitched headlong
into chaos. Iris, torn from the terrified grasp of her maid, fell
through a corridor, and would have gone down with the ship had not a
sailor, clinging to a companion ladder, caught her as she whirled along
the steep slope of the deck.

He did not know what had happened. With the instinct of
self-preservation he seized the nearest support when the vessel struck.
It was the mere impulse of ready helpfulness that caused him to stretch
out his left arm and clasp the girl's waist as she fluttered past. By