Brandon only groaned.
“Where is it?” shrieked the other lad, fairly shaking him in his impatience.
“I cast it loose,” was the disheartening reply. “It is gone!”
CHAPTER XXXIV
THE INCIDENTS OF A NIGHT OF PERIL
Night was shutting down over the face of the storm tossed ocean—night of the blackest and wildest description. Already the outlines of the steamer ahead were scarcely visible from the bows of the water logged brig.
By a series of misfortunes (Brandon Tarr bitterly accused himself of causing the crowning mischance of them all) the three unfortunates on the Success were entirely cut off from escape.
“Oh,” cried Milly, in bitterness of spirit second only to Brandon’s own, “you have lost your lives for me—both of you. I am not worthy of it!”
“Don’t ye lose heart, missy,” Swivel declared, with a courage he was far from feeling. “Th’ ship hain’t sunk.”
“No one but God Himself knows how long it will keep afloat, though,” Brandon returned despairingly.
“And the gale is increasing again, too,” added Milly softly.