In the twinkling of an eye, even as a trout snatches a fly, this proud venture of man was; and then it was no more.
Brain-stunned, incapable of comprehension, Emily crawled round the binnacle and got behind the lee side of the wheel. In a lull she heard Paul yelling.
"—be—low! Eat—rest! Need—help—by and——"
She obeyed as one in a trance. As the lounge door banged behind her the comparative quiet within, though it was a veritable orgy of sound, enveloped her senses like a drug.
It was seven o'clock when she awoke. Through the weather port she saw the yellow-colored head at the wheel touched by a gleam of the binnacle light. Seventeen hours now he had been standing there like that. She lighted the lounge lamp. The barometer stood at 28:00.
When she fought her way out to him with this word and shrieked it at him he simply nodded that he heard.
"When—are—you—going to—let—me—help?"
She succeeded in crying this question into his ear in segments.
"Damn it! Shut—up!"
He cried this at her savagely.