And into this haven the Queen was drifting, slowly but surely. Nothing but sinking could prevent her from moving onward till she reached the innermost haven.
What would it be like? he wondered. Would the wrecks really be crowded together so that one could pass from one to the other? That there had been plenty of them borne in to make a very continent of ships he did not doubt, but had they floated long enough to accumulate to any great extent?
The sailors declared that the sea was as large as Europe; that the weed was impenetrable over an area larger than France; that there might well be an area of massed wreckage two or three hundred miles in diameter. But these were sailors’ tales. Would they prove true?
“Well?”
Howard turned around. Dorothy and Jackson had come up behind him and were staring curiously over the weedy sea. “Well?” reiterated the latter.
Howard hesitated.
“I fear it is not well,” he answered at last. “Our chances of escape for the present seem practically nil.”
Miss Fairfax paled, but Jackson flushed darkly.
“What are you givin’ us?” he demanded, roughly. “The ship ain’t going to sink, is she?”
“No. That is not the danger. Look around you.” He waved his hand to the weed-strewn horizon.