But Percival had turned away with the two women. Mrs. Spofford took his arm, leaning heavily against him. Her figure had straightened, however. He had given her the needed confidence.
They made their way up the steps leading to the topmost deck. Others had already preceded them. A dozen men and women were looking out over the sea through their binoculars. They recognized Landover, Madame Careni-Amori (clutching her jewel case), Joseppi, Fitts and one or two more. Olga Obosky was well forward, seated on the edge of a partially wrecked skylight and ventilator. Her three dancing girls were with her, closely grouped.
Percival purposely remained near the steps. He knew full well that the ship's hours were numbered. It was only a question of time when she would founder. In the lee of one of the big stacks they huddled close together and waited for the lifting of the veil. The wind was soft but strong up there at the top of the vessel. He took hope in the fact that it was blowing toward the shores of that unseen land, and that slowly but surely the Doraine was drifting thither.
Suddenly, as if a curtain were being raised, a far-off line appeared on the surface of the waters. Higher rose the curtain, and like magic the line developed into an irregular ridge, the ends of which sank below the horizon far to the right and left.
Percival felt the girl's hand on his arm. He shot a swift glance at her face. It was turned away. She staring at the mystic panorama that was being unveiled off there on the rim of the world. Her eyes were bright, her lips were parted in the ecstasy of hope revived, she was breathing deeply. The pulse in her smooth white neck was beating rapidly, rythmically. He could see it. He laid his bandaged hand firmly upon hers and pressed it tightly to his arm. She did not look around. Her every thought was centred upon the unfolding vision.
“There are trees,” she murmured, enthralled. “Trees,—and hills! See, Auntie,—but oh, how far away they are!”
For many minutes they stood there without speaking. Then from all sides came the clamour of voices,—shouts of joy, cheers,—laughter! She looked down at the clumsy object that imprisoned her hand, then swiftly up into his eyes. A warm flush spread over her face.
“I—I couldn't help it,” he muttered. “It—it looked so helpless.”
“It isn't half as helpless as yours, Mr. Percival,” she said, and smiled. She waited a moment before withdrawing her hand. “May I have the glasses, please? Had you forgotten them?”
“Completely,” he replied.