Towards dawn the wind changed to the west and at the first rays of light Raft awoke, sat up and sniffed. Then he laid his hand on the girl’s shoulder.
“Smell that!” cried he.
She sat up, her eyes half-blind with sleep.
“Smell the wind!” said Raft.
She turned her face to the west. On the wind was coming the ghost of a smell, faint and horrible and soul-searching.
“That’s a ship,” said Raft.
“A ship!”
“Boiling down blubber. I struck that smell once, seven years ago; it’s blubber. I reckon we’re all right.” He heaved himself on to his feet and the girl half-rose, kneeling, and looked at him.
“Are you sure?”
“Sure as sure; smell it.”