When I came out they were all gone. By good fortune I found one of the ship's rafts still lying on the deck. I gathered together such articles as might be of use and contrived, though how I do not know, to launch it into the sea.
On my second morning on my raft I was sitting quietly polishing my boots and talking to myself when I became aware of an object floating in the sea close beside the raft. Judge of my feelings when I realized it to be the inanimate body of a girl. Hastily finishing my boots and stopping talking to myself, I made shift as best I could to draw the unhappy girl towards me with a hook.
After several ineffectual attempts I at last managed to obtain a hold of the girl's clothing and drew her on to the raft.
She was still unconscious. The heavy lifebelt round her person must (so I divined) have kept her afloat after the wreck. Her clothes were sodden, so I reasoned, with the sea-water.
On a handkerchief which was still sticking into the belt of her dress, I could see letters embroidered. Realizing that this was no time for hesitation, and that the girl's life might depend on my reading her name, I plucked it forth. It was Edith Croyden.
As vigorously as I could I now set to work to rub her hands. My idea was (partly) to restore her circulation. I next removed her boots, which were now rendered useless, as I argued, by the sea-water, and began to rub her feet.
I was just considering what to remove next, when the girl opened her eyes. "Stop rubbing my feet," she said.
"Miss Croyden," I said, "you mistake me."
I rose, with a sense of pique which I did not trouble to conceal, and walked to the other end of the raft. I turned my back upon the girl and stood looking out upon the leaden waters of the Caribbean Sea. The ocean was now calm. There was nothing in sight.
I was still searching the horizon when I heard a soft footstep on the raft behind me, and a light hand was laid upon my shoulder. "Forgive me," said the girl's voice.