Jim, with the baler in his hand, busied himself with keeping the boat free of water, for though she took no green water aboard, sprays and spindrift flew over in a continuous shower-bath.
As evening came on they ate their slight, unpalatable meal and struggled with damp matches to light their pipes in the screaming wind. Then, as the darkness deepened, they all sat silently expectant, waiting for the return of Jack's bewitched eyesight.
The rover sat up and sniffed round, turning his head slowly through the points of the compass with straining eyes.
They watched him, fascinated by this queer freak of fortune, Loyola in an agony of anxiety, the others curiously, but quietly confident.
Then, as the stars began to peep forth through the rushing clouds, they saw his eyes suddenly brighten.
"I can see again!" he murmured, almost below his breath; though they did not catch the words, all recognised that change in his face.
"Thank God!" burst forth Loyola half brokenly, for it was her great terror that some day perhaps his eyesight might fail to return with the nightfall.
A wave of intense relief rushed over the castaways, and as if some great weight had been lifted from their spirits, they commenced to talk, or rather shout, cheerfully.
The mere fact that their leader, if only for a few hours, was once more restored to his usual self, gave renewed confidence to all.
With a swift, winning smile, Loyola tenderly grasped the rover's hand and hugged it.