He saw the catastrophe happening and at the same moment, before he could
open his mouth or stir a limb to ward off the vision, a voice very near
his ear, the measured voice of Captain Anthony said: "Wouldn't light--eh?
Throw it down! Jump for the flare-up."
The spring of activity in Mr. Powell was released with great force. He
jumped. The flare-up was kept inside the companion with a box of matches
ready to hand. Almost before he knew he had moved he was diving under
the companion slide. He got hold of the can in the dark and tried to
strike a light. But he had to press the flare-holder to his breast with
one arm, his fingers were damp and stiff, his hands trembled a little.
One match broke. Another went out. In its flame he saw the colourless
face of Mrs. Anthony a little below him, standing on the cabin stairs.
Her eyes which were very close to his (he was in a crouching posture on
the top step) seemed to burn darkly in the vanishing light. On deck the
captain's voice was heard sudden and unexpectedly sardonic: "You had
better look sharp, if you want to be in time.
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