Part 26 (2/2)
”Now.”
She sprang outward, and came down, sinking to her knees, and clinging fast, as the raft bobbed up and down under her sudden weight, dipping until the water rolled completely over it.
CHAPTER XXVI
THE COMING OF DAWN
West leaned far out, and stared off at the faint blotch made by the raft against the water surface. He could perceive little except a bare, shapeless outline.
”Did you make it? Are you all right?”
”Yes, I'm safe enough; but wet just the same; the thing bobbed under.”
”It will hold us up though, don't you think?”
”Why, of course, it will float; it is supposed to support four people. It rides dry enough now. But--but, Captain West, I want you to come.”
”I'm coming; I'll throw my shoes and coat over there to you first. To be rid of them will make swimming easier. Watch out now--good! Now draw in the line; we may need it. Got it all right? Very well; here goes.”
He made the plunge, coming up to the surface close beside the raft, the edge of which he quickly grasped with his hands. The girl remained motionless, barely perceptible through the gloom, but with anxious eyes marking his every movement. The frail support beneath her rose and fell on the swell of the waters, occasionally dipping beneath the surface.
Beyond, a grim, black, threatening shadow, wallowed the wreck. West swam steadily, urging the unwieldy raft away from the menacing side of the vessel, driven by the necessity of escaping the inevitable suction when she went down. It was a hard, slow push, the square sides of the raft offering every obstacle to progress. Yet the waves and wind helped somewhat, the raft being lighter than the water-sogged _Seminole_, so that gradually the distance widened, until there extended a considerable waste of water between the two. Exhausted by his exertion, and breathing hard, West glanced back over his shoulder at the dimmer shadow of the yacht, now barely revealed against the clouded sky. The bulk of it seemed scarcely visible in any defined form above the level of the sea--the end must be almost at hand.
Satisfied that they were far enough away for safety, he clambered cautiously upon the platform, the girl as carefully making room for him on the few dry planks. The raft tossed dizzily under the strain, but he made it at last, the water draining from his soaked clothing, his flesh s.h.i.+vering at the touch of the cool night air. He sat up, his limbs braced to hold him erect, glancing aside at her, wondering at her continued silence. Even in the darkness she must have known his eyes were searching her face.
”You are cold,” she said, doubtfully. ”Here is your coat, and I have kept it dry--no, really, I do not need it; I am quite warmly dressed.”
He threw the garment over his wet shoulders, gratefully, and the two sat there very close together, staring back at the labouring _Seminole_.
There was nothing to say, nothing to do; for the moment at least they were safe, and perhaps morning would bring rescue. Suddenly West straightened up, aroused by a new interest--surely that last wave went entirely over the yacht's rail; he could see the white gleam of spray as it broke; and, yes, there was another! Unconsciously his hand reached out and clasped that of his companion. She made no effort to draw away, and they sat there in awed silence, watching this weird tragedy of the sea, with bodies braced to meet the bobbing of the unwieldy support beneath them.
At first the labouring vessel seemed to hold its own, fighting desperately to remain afloat, a mere shadow above the surface. Then, almost without warning, the end came. She went down bow first, the stern lifting until West could discern the dark outlines of the screw, and then dropped like a stone, vanis.h.i.+ng almost instantly. One moment she was there; the next had disappeared, the black waters closing over. There was but little evidence of what occurred; only a deeper swell, tossing the raft giddily about for a moment, and causing West to tighten his grip on the girl's hand. She gave utterance to a half-smothered cry, and her body dropped forward as though she would hide the scene from her eyes.
”That is the last of the _Seminole_” West said, feeling the necessity of strengthening her. ”But it is nothing to frighten you. We are safe enough here.”
”Oh, it is not that,” she explained hastily, lifting her head, and facing him. ”I--I do not think I am frightened. I have not broken down before, but--but I thought then of that dead man lying there all alone in the dark cabin. It seemed so terrible when the yacht sank. Please do not find fault with me.”
”That was not why I spoke. But you must keep your nerve; we may be afloat for hours yet before we are picked up.”
”You are sure we will be?”
”The probability is altogether in our favour,” he insisted, as much to encourage himself as her. ”This is Lake Michigan in summer time, and boats are plying everywhere. We shall surely be sighted by something when daylight returns. There is no sign of a storm brewing, and all we need do now is hold on.”
She was silent a moment, with head again bent forward.
”What do you suppose became of the men who deserted the yacht?” she asked, her voice natural and quiet.
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