and clinging in woman. And yet I am
wrong. She _was_ timid and afraid, but she possessed courage. The flesh
and the qualms of the flesh she was heir to, but the flesh bore heavily
only on the flesh. And she was spirit, first and always spirit,
etherealized essence of life, calm as her calm eyes, and sure of
permanence in the changing order of the universe.

Came days of storm, days and nights of storm, when the ocean menaced us
with its roaring whiteness, and the wind smote our struggling boat with a
Titan's buffets. And ever we were flung off, farther and farther, to the
north-east. It was in such a storm, and the worst that we had
experienced, that I cast a weary glance to leeward, not in quest of
anything, but more from the weariness of facing the elemental strife, and
in mute appeal, almost, to the wrathful powers to cease and let us be.
What I saw I could not at first believe. Days and nights of
sleeplessness and anxiety had doubtless turned my head. I looked back at
Maud, to identify myself, as it were, in time and space. The sight of
her dear wet cheeks, her flying hair, and her brave brown eyes convinced
me that my vision was still healthy. Again I turned my face to leeward,
and again I saw the jutting promontory, black and high and naked, the
raging surf that broke about its base and beat its front high up with
spouting fountains, the black and forbidden coast-line running toward the
south-east and fringed with a tremendous scarf of white.

"Maud," I said. "Maud."

She turned her head and beheld the sight.

"It cannot be Alaska!" she cried.

"Alas, no," I answered, and asked, "Can you swim?"

She shook her head.

"Neither can I," I said. "So we must get ashore without swimming, in
some opening between the rocks through which we can drive the boat and
clamber out. But we must be quick, most quick--and sure."

I spoke with a confidence she knew I did not feel, for she looked at me
with that unfaltering gaze of hers and said:

"I have not thanked you yet for all you have done for me but--"

She hesitated, as if in doubt how best to word her gratitude.

"Well?" I said, brutally, for I was not quite pleased with her thanking
me.

"You might help me," she smiled.

"To acknowledge your obligations before you die? Not at all. We are not
going to die. We shall land on that island, and we shall be snug and
sheltered before the day is done."

I spoke stoutly, but I did not believe a word.