Doris stirred but did not awaken. Nieta slumbered on.
The boat gave a lurch, appeared to veer in its course, then swept on. Ten minutes later the tossing ceased.
“Entered a bay. Come to land soon. What land?” He thrilled afresh.
“It’s like the adventures of Robinson Crusoe.”
A half hour later the boat ground gently on a sandy shore. The mast came down. There was the sound of men going ashore. The boat was drawn farther up on the beach. After that all was darkness and silence.
“Now is our chance,” he thought. His knees trembled slightly as he rose to part the canvas curtain and peer out.
He saw no living thing. Stepping boldly out he looked shoreward. A grove of tall palms painted a dark fringe against the night.
“Now is our chance,” he repeated as he stepped back.
“Doris.” He spoke the name in a low tone as he touched the girl’s shoulder. “Wake up!”
“Wha—where are we?” She sat up sleepily.