ed my face in my hands. All
that terrible day seemed to culminate in this overwhelming misfortune.
Driven on the one hand by the sea, on the other by these devils of the
darkness, doomed, it might be, to hunger and thirst on that desolate
rock, four good comrades cut off from us by the sea's intervening, the
very shadows full of dangers, what hope had we, what hope of that brave
promise spoken to little Ruth but three short hours ago?

"Doctor," I said at last, "if we are not at the bottom of it now, we
never shall be. But we are men, and we will act as men should. Let the
women stand together in the great hall until the sea drives them out.
If water is our need, I am ashore to Ken's Island to-morrow to get it.
As for Nepeen, we have a boat and we have hands to man it; we'll fetch
Captain Nepeen, doctor," said I.

He nodded his head and appeared to be thinking deeply. Old
Clair-de-Lune was the next to utter a sensible thing.

"The man flood the house," said he, "but no sure he get to ship. If he
drown, Czerny know nothing. I say turn out the lamp--wait!"

"As true a word as the night has spoken," said I; "if Kess Denton does
not reach the boats, they won't hear the story. We'll keep it close
enough, lads, and Captain Nepeen will learn it soon enough. Do you
whistle, Dolly, and get an answer. I hope to God it is all well with
them still."

He whistled across the sea, and after a long minute of waiting a
distant voice cried, "All's well!" For the hour at least our comrades
were safe. Should we say the same of them when daylight came?

* * *

The dark fell with greater intensity as the dawn drew near. I thought
that it typified our own black hour, when it seemed that fate had
nothing left for us but a grave beneath the seas, or the eternal sleep
on the island shore.

* * *

Another hour passed, and the dawn was nearer. I did not know then
(though I know now) what kept Czerny's crew in the shadows, or why we
heard nothing of them. Once, indeed, in the far distance where the
yacht lay anchored, gunshots were fired, and were answered from some
boat lying southward by the island; but no other message of the night
was vouchsafed to us, no other omen to be heard. In the gloom of the
darkened house women watched, men kept the vigil and prayed for the
day. Would the light never come; would that breaking East never speed
its joyous day? Ah! who could tell? Who, in the agony of waiting, ever
thinks aright or draws the tr