Hunting looked as if he did not exactly relish the tribute, but he stooped down and kissed Annie, who permitted rather than received the caress.
"How did you escape?" she asked Gregory, eagerly.
"Well, I swam toward the ship that struck us, whose lights I saw twinkling in the distance, till almost exhausted. I was on the point of giving up, when a small piece of the wreck floated near. By a great effort I succeeded in reaching it. Then a little later a boat from this ship picked me up and we started after you or any others that could be found. I am glad to say that quite a number that went down with the ship were saved."
She looked at him in a way to bring the warm blood into his face, and said, in a low tone, "How can I ever repay yon?"
"By doing as you once said to me, 'Live! get strong and well.' Good-by now. Miss Morton will take care of you."
Her eyes followed him till he disappeared, then she turned and hid her face on Miss Eulie's shoulder. The good old lady was a little puzzled, and so was Hunting, though he had dismal forebodings. But he was so glad to have escaped that he could not indulge in very bitter regrets just then. As his mind recovered its poise, however, and he had time to think it all over, there came a sickening sense of humiliation.
In a few minutes Gregory returned and said to Annie, "See how honored you are. I've been so lucky as to get the captain's best coat for you, and those wet things that would chill you to death can be taken off. You can give my coat to Hunting. You see I was up at the time of the accident, and so am dressed."
"If I am to wear the captain's coat," said Annie, "then, with some of his authority, I order you to go and take care of yourself. You have done enough for others for a little while."
"Ay, ay, captain," said Gregory, smiling, as he again vanished.
It would only be painful to dwell on the dreary days and nights during which the comparatively small sailing vessel was beating back against a stormy wind to the port from which she had sailed. She had been much injured by the collision, and many were doubtful whether, after all, they would ever see land. Thus, to the manifold miseries of the rescued passengers, was added continued anxiety as to their fate. It was, indeed, a sad company that was crowded in that small cabin, half-clothed, bruised, sick, and fearful. What seemed to them an endless experience was but a long nightmare of trouble, while some, who had lost their best and dearest, refused to be comforted and almost wished they had perished also.