e cache, some
ship must have left that.

She told Raft what was in her mind but got little consolation from him.
He opined that the wreck wouldn't have been a wreck if she had kept
clear of this dangerous water, that the cache might have been left by
people who had landed somewhere else, and as for Captain Slocum's ship
she might have been a whaler. Whalers according to Raft were always off
the beaten track and poking their noses into places where honest deep
sea ships would not dare to go.

"Well, then," said she, "how about that bay you spoke of?"

"Oh, that place," said Raft.

"Yes."

He hung silent for a moment as if revolving the question in his mind.

"But you were set against it," said he at last.

"Yes, I know, but I am stronger now, and it seems useless staying here
till perhaps the winter comes."

She paused and looked towards the islands. She hated the idea of that
journey which she pictured over rocks and across plains, where? In
search of a place that might not exist, and where, if it did exist, no
ship might perhaps be found. An almost hopeless journey involving
unknown hardships.

"You ain't strong enough," suddenly said Raft.

It was as though he had touched some spring in her character that set
the machinery of determination working.

"I am strong enough," she replied. Then after a moment's pause something
in her began speaking, something that seemed allied to conscience,
rather than thought, something that spoke almost against her will.

"We ought to go, we ought not to lose any chance. It seems almost
hopeless, but it is the right thing to do. To stay here is not fighting,
and in this place one has to fight if one wants to live or to get away.
I feel that. To sit here with one's hands folded is wicked."

"Well, I believe in making a fight," said the other, "question is, will
we be any the better."

"There's always the chance."

"Ay, there's always a chance."

Then an idea came to her.

"How about the boat?" she asked.

"That old boat along the beach?"

"Yes, suppose we took her and rowed down the coast."

"There aren't no oars in her."

"There are oars. I hid them amongst the bushes and I can find them
again."

Raft considered the proposition for a moment, then he shook his head and
tapped the dottle out of his pipe.

"Not with them winds that get you here," said he, "they let out when
you're least expecting it and we'd be on to the rocks and done for. I'm
not saying if