“Thirteen days,” said Nancy. “Seems more like thirteen years.” She glanced toward the door again. “Why don’t they come back? Could they have struck a reef?”
The captain glanced at his watch. “Not quite time yet.”
But even as he spoke the throb of the motorboat beat on their ears again.
“They’re coming!” she cried, and staggered toward the exit.
Minutes had never seemed so long to Nancy, but eventually the boat came into range. Aquiver with expectancy, she searched the faces of the boatmen. Then her gaze came to rest on a sun-baked, nut-brown man with a long brown beard. Sick with suspense, for she could not believe that man was Tommy, she wavered and the oncoming boat blurred. She felt Vernon’s arm about her waist, steadying her.
Suspense, fear, then incredible joy followed in swift succession, for Tommy was calling her name. Her head was whirling so that he seemed very far away. But there he was really stepping into the plane. A moment later she was in his arms. Then all her agony was dissolved in complete joy, for his arms about her gave assurance that their suffering was over.
“They told me you were here,” he said, when he could command himself to speak, “and also about the horrible things you’ve been through.”
“No more awful than yours—nor half so bad,” she said, looking up into his eyes that had been so much like hers before her own became so hollow.
“After the first month I didn’t fare so badly,” he reassured her. “For a while I didn’t believe I’d make it. Since my stomach healed, though, it’s been endurable.”
“You don’t look starved,” she said.