Straight she stood at the wheel, and tall, like some figure of a goddess of antiquity. The moon rose, and its light glorified her. It fell upon the shattered deck, defining every dreary detail. The waves rose and fell with the lilt of music. The tinkling breeze was cool and fresh and invigorating. Fear vanished from her. She felt herself a part of the elements, a part of the night, the lone representative of life and consciousness, and God amid the waste of primeval desolation.
So she sailed, exalted, ennobled, until long after midnight. When her thoughts turned to the man sleeping at her feet, she leaned down, gazing long and earnestly upon his face. Then, as he stirred, she let her hand rest on his forehead a moment.
"It is time to awaken, Daniel," she said.
He was upon his feet in an instant. There was a strange expression upon his face.
"I was far away from here," he said. "I was dreaming, the bulliest sort of a dream."
"Dreaming? And what about, pray?"
"You."
"You were! Tell me the dream."
"They say dreams that are told never come true," replied Dan, slowly.
Their eyes met. Both were smiling. Then her eyes fell; but she still smiled.