The blushing rose of dawn opened its petals at last. The morning light glimmered palely in the east. It shone upon a deathly-white face with pale lips, half apart, and eye-lids closed in unconsciousness, with the long, thick lashes lying on the cheek like to "rays of darkness."
At that moment a small sailing-vessel hove in sight. The floating plank with its precious burden was sighted by the pilot, and in a few minutes more the unfortunate girl was safe on deck.
The crew gathered around her, filled with wonder and curiosity at the sight of the beautiful ocean-waif.
"She is dead," said the mate, with a sorrowful shake of the head.
"I do not think so," said the captain, decidedly. "Look at her right temple. You see it still bleeding from a slight wound that must have been received from something that has struck her in the water. She has been stunned by it, perhaps, and will revive presently. Call Doctor Franks."
Doctor Franks came and agreed with the captain. The girl was not dead, but there was no telling how soon she would be, from the bad effects of her exposure in the water, and the jagged wound on her head.
"A bed must be prepared for her at once, and I will see what I can do towards resuscitating her," said the kind-hearted Doctor Franks.
[CHAPTER XXII.]
"Go and tell the stewardess to prepare a bed quickly for this young lady," said the captain, turning to the cabin-boy.