He peered anxiously into the gloom, and felt certain that the motion of the raft was changed. There was less ripple against its prow.
"Wills," said he softly to the old carpenter, who lay full length within reach of his hand,—"Wills, there is something wrong."
The man was on the alert instantaneously.
"Zur?" he asked.
"I fear we have parted the towline," said Mr Gilchrist.
Wills cautiously moved to where the rope had been fastened—it hung loose, there was no tension upon it, and he hauled it in hand over hand.
"My God!" he cried, "we are lost!"
They shouted to the men in the boat, but the distance was widening every moment between them. Kirke did not seem to hear, to understand. The men clamoured, the first mate arose, took the helm, and tried to turn her head so as to row back, but the darkness was greater than ever. Those in the raft could no longer distinguish the boat, what chance therefore existed of those in the boat seeing the raft, which lay so much lower in the water?
They raised a shout, hoping to direct their friends by means of sound, but that hope failed them. They kept it up till they were exhausted, till a long line of faint light illumined the east, till daylight leapt out of the sea and all was bright about them. A little breeze sprang up with the dawn, the water had not yet quite calmed down from the disturbance caused by the tornado; they looked north, south, east, and west, but saw the boat nowhere.