weeds.

Then at last he turned and climbed, slowly and heavily, up to the ridge;
for now he felt the strain of these last full hours, coming on top of
the longer strain of the storm; and this, and the lack of proper
feeding, made him feel weak and empty and weary. He knelt down there in
the darkness, with his face towards the Race where Nance was battling
with the hungry black waters, and he prayed for her safety as he had
never prayed for anything in his life before.

"_God keep her! God keep her! God keep her--and bring her safe to land!
O God, keep her, keep her, keep her, and bring her safe to land!_"

It was a monotonous little prayer, but all his heart was in it, and that
is all that makes a prayer avail. And when at last, from sheer
weariness, he sank down on to his heels in science, gazing earnestly out
into the blackness of the night, his heart prayed on though his lips no
longer moved.

Could anything have happened to her? Could the black waters have
swallowed her?

Anything might have happened to her. The waters might have swallowed
her, as they had Bernel.

The thoughts would surge up behind his prayer, but he prayed them
down--again and again--and clung to his prayer and his hope.

It seemed hours since they parted, since his last glimpse of her as the
black waters swallowed the slim white figure, and seemed to laugh
scornfully at its smallness and weakness.

"_Oh, Nance! Nance! God keep you! God keep you! God keep you! Dear one,
God keep you! God keep you! God keep you, and bring you safe to land_!"

He was numb with kneeling. If one had come behind him and cut off his
feet above the ankles, he would have felt no pain. He felt no bodily
sensation whatever. His body was there on the rock, but his heart was
out upon the black waters alongside Nance, struggling with her through
the belching coils, nerving her through the treacherous swirls. And his
soul--all that was most really and truly him--was agonizing in prayer
for her before the God to whom he had prayed at his mother's knee, and
whom she had taught him to look to as a friend and helper in all times
of need.

He did not even stop--as he well might have done--to think that the
friend sought only in time of need might have reasonable ground for
complaint of neglect at other times.

He thought of nothing but that Nance was out there battling with the
black waters--that he could not lift a finger to help her--that all he
could do was to pray