hand was resting on his
shoulder now, clutching it tight; but if he knew it was there, he made
no sign.

At length, toward evening, as though in a dream, Dan's voice bore upon
her ears. For a moment she gazed at him dully, and then she
comprehended his words.

"It is beginning to rain, Virginia. The fog will go away now."

"Oh, good!" she exclaimed.

"The wind is freshening, too," he added, "and it doesn't feel very
good. I think we're going to have a blow for a change."

It seemed so. Already the mists were beginning to scuttle away before
the increasing wind-rush which moaned with evil breath.

"Will you hold the wheel for a moment, please," said Dan.

As she placed her hands on the spokes he went forward and lowered the
sail. There were two lines of reef points in the section of canvas and
Dan took in both. When he hoisted it again there was just a patch of
three-cornered sail.

Within half an hour it was raining hard. The wind was increasing
slowly but surely, and the sea was rising. Dan asked the girl to go
into the cabin and to remain there either until the storm was over, or
he summoned her. She obeyed him partially. She went into the cabin,
but returned quickly with two slickers.

"Do you suppose," she cried, "I am going to let you be alone now? I am
going to help you, and, if it must be, to die with you. I am not a bit
afraid any more."

Dan placed his hand on her arm.

"Get down here, then, under the lee of this cabin. We are not going to
die. At least not yet a while."

So the storm came. With his patch of sail Dan had headed the craft up
into the wind; and thus, with the boat already beginning to rise and
fall, with the broad bow groaning, and oozing ends of planking, and
dirty water, and the deck, contracting and expanding like the belly of
a stricken whale, he settled down to the long fight.

The fog had all departed now. North, east, south, and west, nothing
but the gray of onrushing waves and a shrouded sky as implacable as the
morning of doom. Darkness was falling swiftly. Soon the terrible
night began.

Not that it was the worst storm in which Dan had ever been, but
certainly he had never faced North Atlantic tumult under such a
disadvantage, under conditions so desperately precarious. The bow rose
but heavily to the seas, and never topped them. The water rushing
over, poured down the deck in mill-races, filling it to the rails,
occasionally springing up over the