Chapter XVIII
The Lottery of Death
Jane Porter had been the first of those in the lifeboat to awaken the morning after the wreck of the Lady Alice. The other members of the party were asleep upon the thwarts or huddled in cramped positions in the bottom of the boat.
When the girl realized that they had become separated from the other boats she was filled with alarm. The sense of utter loneliness and helplessness which the vast expanse of deserted ocean aroused in her was so depressing that, from the first, contemplation of the future held not the slightest ray of promise for her. She was confident that they were lost—lost beyond possibility of succor.
Presently Clayton awoke. It was several minutes before he could gather his senses sufficiently to realize where he was, or recall the disaster of the previous night. Finally his bewildered eyes fell upon the girl.
“Jane!” he cried. “Thank God that we are together!”
“Look,” said the girl dully, indicating the horizon with an apathetic gesture. “We are all alone.”
Clayton scanned the water in every direction.
“Where can they be?” he cried. “They cannot have gone down, for there has been no sea, and they were afloat after the yacht sank—I saw them all.”
He awoke the other members of the party, and explained their plight.
“It is just as well that the boats are scattered, sir,” said one of the sailors. “They are all provisioned, so that they do not need each other on that score, and should a storm blow up they could be of no service to one another even if they were together, but scattered about the ocean there is a much better chance that one at least will be picked up, and then a search will be at once started for the others. Were we together there would be but one chance of rescue, where now there may be four.”