I admitted, lifting myself on one elbow
to look about. "I haven't had an observation, and it is all guesswork.
I know the American coast lies in that direction, but that is about
all. I couldn't tell if it be a hundred, or a hundred and fifty miles
away. So the fog has lifted without a storm?"

"Yes, sir, but left an ugly sea. There has been plenty o' wind
somewhere, but we seem to be out of it. Must a bin midnight when the
mist lifted."

"Is it as late as that? I must have been in bad shape when you pulled
me in?"

"We thought you was gone, sir. You was bleedin' some too, but only
from flesh wounds. The young lady she just wouldn't let yer die. She
worked over yer for two or three hours, sir, afore I hed any hope."

Her eyes were downcast and her face turned away, but I reached out my
hand and clasped her fingers. They remained quietly in my grasp, but
neither of us spoke. The boat lay before me a black shadow under the
stars, flung up on the crests of the waves and darting down into the
hollows. It required all of Watkins' skill to keep it upright, the
flying spray constantly dashing against our faces. The men were but
dimly revealed, sitting with heads lowered beneath the slight
protection afforded by the lug sail, although one was upon his knees,
throwing out the water which dashed in over the front rail. He was
succeeding so poorly I called to another to help him, and the two fell
to the job with new vigor. I could not distinguish the faces of the
fellows, but counted nine altogether in the boat, and felt assured the
huge bulk at the foot of the mast was the Dutchman Schmitt. Beyond
these dim outlines there was nothing for the eye to rest upon, only a
few yards of black sea in every direction, rendered visible by the
reflected star-shine and the dull glow of crested waves. It was
dismal, awe inspiring, and I felt that I must speak to break the
dreadful silence. My eyes sought the averted face beside me, and for a
moment in peculiar hesitancy, observed the silhouette of cheek and
form. She rested against the gunwale, her eyes on the dark vista of
sea, her chin cupped in her hand. The mystery of the night and ocean
was in her motionless posture. Only as her hand gently pressed mine
did I gain courage, with a knowledge that she recognized and welcomed
my presence.

"Watkins says I owe my life to you," I said, so low the words were
scarcely audible above the dash of water alongside. "It will make that
life more