Driven to Bay, Volume III by Florence Marryat

In the midst of this terrible confusion, the starboard lifeboat of the _Pandora_ was taken from her chocks, and swung into the davit tackles. Six sailors jumped quickly into her, and took their places on the thwarts, and the third officer, Mr Sparkes, grasped the tiller in the stern sheets. Then the women, with tear-stained faces and dishevelled hair, were handed down, some moaning piteously with fright, others murmuring prayers to Heaven for help, and clinging to their companions in their distress. The first to enter the boat was Grace Vansittart, wailing louder than the rest, and covering her face with her hands to shut out the terrifying scene around her. Her usually blooming face was white as marble, and her large brown eyes seemed to be starting from their sockets. But her grief was all for herself. No thought, in that awful hour, of the wretched man to whom she had been vowing protestations of fidelity throughout the voyage occupied her mind. She was too much alarmed on her own account to remember anybody else. Father, mother, and lover had alike sunk into insignificance beside the danger that threatened herself. There was no doubt but that, should Miss Vansittart survive the wreck, she would soon enough be comforted for the loss of Godfrey Harland. Mr and Mrs Vansittart were the next to follow.

The old man had wished to remain behind, but his wife had clung to him with so tenacious a grasp, that Vernon Blythe pushed them both in together.