The sun rose, and daylight broadened into the morning. The wind fell rapidly, and the sea began to get that easy run of the Atlantic when undisturbed. I loosened my lashings and stood up, gazing about us. The motion of the raft was still severe; but I could stand, balancing myself. I shivered and shook with the wet and cold; but I now felt that with the sun shining we would soon be in better straits. As the raft rose upon the swells I looked all around the horizon. But there was nothing; not a thing save the sea in sight.
"You can't see anything?" The girl's voice sounded strange, querulous, and pitiful. She was sitting with her head bowed upon her hands, which rested on her knees. Her wet dress clung to her, and she looked very frail, very delicate.
"No; I can't see anything yet," I answered; "but we'll sight something before long. Tell me, were you from Bermuda?"
"Yes; I was visiting my aunt there," she said. "I just graduated from the convent of the Sacred Cross last month. I've never been anywhere, or seen anyone, until this year. My mother is the only other near relative I have living."
"Well, you've made a good start seeing things," said I, trying to smile at her. She turned a little pink, just flushed a bit; but it gave her white face a more natural look. She was a very pretty girl.
"How old are you?" I asked.
"Eighteen. Why?"
"Oh, nothing, only——"
I felt like a fool. Why should I bother this child about her age? She had saved my life by dragging me upon the raft, and I would save hers, if possible. It produced a feeling in me I could not quite understand. I liked to hear her talk, to have her look at me. She was very pretty; a good, innocent young girl.
"I could eat a house, roof, and foundation," I ventured finally, seating myself. The wash of the sea now hardly reached us, and we were drying out fast in the cool breeze and sunshine.