"'She's sinkin',' said Bell. 'It's all gaun, an' I'll get no more
than a pair o' night-glasses for pickin' up young Bannister - the
fool!'
"' Fair an' soft again,' I said. 'She's signallin' to the south
of us. Bannister knows as well as I that one rocket would bring
the Breslau. He'll no be wastin' fireworks for nothin'. Hear her
ca'!'
"The Grotkau whustled an' whustled for five minutes, an' then there
were more fireworks - a regular exhibeetion.
"'That's no for men in the regular trade,' says Bell. 'Ye're right,
Mac. That's for a cuddy full o' passengers.' He blinked through
the night-glasses when it lay a bit thick to southward.
"'What d' ye make of it?' I said.
"'Liner,' he says. 'Yon's her rocket. Ou, ay; they've waukened
the gold-strapped skipper, an' - noo they've waukened the passengers.
They're turnin' on the electrics, cabin by cabin. Yon's anither
rocket! They're comin' up to help the perishin' in deep watters.'
"'Gie me the glass,' I said. But Bell danced on the bridge, clean
dementit. 'Mails-mails-mails!' said he. 'Under contract wi' the
Government for the due conveyance o' the mails; an' as such, Mac,
yell note, she may rescue life at sea, but she canna tow! - she
canna tow! Yon's her night-signal.
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