Almost paralyzed with horror she lay still an instant, incapable of movement, then there was a rushing back of suspended animation as she felt that Faith might already have suffered, that her father's life was now in danger and there was not an instant to lose. Upon her prompt action might depend his life, and the safety of all on board.
Casting off her own terror with the resolve of desperation, she sprang up and sped into the cabin. It was dark and empty. She passed through it into the little stateroom, and with a whispered, "Papa! Papa!" felt along the bunk. It too was empty and untumbled.
Oh, was she too late?
Still under the mental influence that made her believe hours must have passed during her dreamings, she felt it must be nearing morning now—that it was the depth of the night, in those darkest watches when all evil deeds are done, and she was stiff and cold with terror. She slipped out upon the deck, lying still and shadowy under its awnings, sped across it like a shadow herself, and so on and up to the bridge.
Her father, calmly talking with one of his officers, saw the swift, silent rush, and the next instant heard an agonized, "O father! father!" as the poor child threw herself into his arms, Then, clinging tightly, she broke out again before he could speak.
"Oh, save sister! Be quick and save her!"
"Save her? What—where—what ails you, child? What has happened?"
"And save yourself! Get the men together—the white men—"
"My child, are you asleep? What is the matter—where have you been?
Why, you are shaking like a leaf!"
He drew her to one side, and the officer discreetly vanished. Hope begged again, "Save her, oh, save Faith!"