"'Dad! It's the Sale Boat. Yell!'"
O'Connor grunted heavily, half asleep, and utterly exhausted. She could get nothing more from him; and as the steamer drew nearer, she left the half-conscious man alone and uttered cry upon cry for help. Nearer and nearer yet the gleaming lights rushed upon her. She spent all her strength in a last cry, which ended in a sob as the steamer passed on.
"They've gone!" she gasped. "Well, we're done, anyhow!"
A bell clanged sharply, and with it a shout.
"Coo-ee! Who's there?"
She screamed in answer. The steamer was slackening speed, coming round in a half-circle; she could hear each clang of her telegraph. Voices came loudly.
"Who's there?"
"Any one in trouble?"
"Want help?"
But 'Possum had no words. She could only utter broken cries, that grew fainter and fainter. Her feet were slipping from the mast: she clung to the side of the boat with nerveless fingers that slipped and clawed for a fresh hold, and slipped again. Then, very dimly, it seemed, she heard the clash of oars in rowlocks, and a deep voice close to her. And then—nothing more.