The third sailor, rose trembling to his feet,—his cheeks hollowed and his eyes sunken like the others. He folded his arms, and surveyed the three,—the body of Godiva, with Herman and Conroy bending over her.
And then the third sailor, with his great eyes flashing in their sockets, burst into a maniac laugh, and cried,—"A sail! A sail!"
The third sailor was Arthur Dermoyne.
Loathsome as was the draught which they took, it assuaged their thirst, and for a time stilled the madness in their veins. It was, therefore, with a vision somewhat clear, that Herman and Conroy looked up, and beheld a white sail breaking the monotony of the waste.
They turned from the body of the dead woman with loathing. * * * The sail grew nearer, nearer! A signal! "They are lowering a boat," cried Herman, "we shall be saved!"
"This is the very time of all others that I wished to see," said Dermoyne, in that husky and unnatural voice,—"your hands are stained with the blood of your paramour,—your heart beats with joy at the sight of a sail,—now go!" And he pushed Herman from the raft, and struck him on the hands, with the hilt of the knife, as the miserable man clutched the timbers.
"Mercy!" cried Herman, again clutching the raft.
Again Dermoyne struck his hands with the hilt of the knife.
"Go! Alice waits for you!"
When the boat from the ship came up, the crew found two men stretched insensible upon the raft, beside the body of a dead woman. As for Herman, he had sunk from sight.