"No, no; not that," he protested faintly.
A gentle relaxation of mind and body was stealing over him under the pressure of the arm with which she supported his head.
"But you must," Emily went on. "It is my part—my duty, my privilege! I will do it! You must do as I say until you are well and strong. It will not be long."
The rebellion of his spirit grew quiet under the influence of her surpassing tenderness. He thought it pleasant to have somebody say must to him.
"Look, Paul, the ocean grows calmer with the minutes. The skies are clearing. There is nothing we could do——"
"But there's so much to do——" His senses began slipping away. He was able to murmur only, "Water," before a long blank came.
The gold woman looked round for the water canister which she had filled and brought aft when Paul had collapsed and fallen asleep. It lay overturned down to leeward. Laying his head on a pillow she ran forward and refilled the canister. At the first sup which she was able to force into his month he opened his eyes.
"More, more," he pleaded when she would have taken the canister from his lips, thinking he could drink no more. "Oh, that is so good," he sighed, finishing the draught. "I feel much better already."
Although Paul smiled bravely, his eyes betrayed him. Emily saw that he was fighting to conceal a great pain.
"Come, Paul." She lifted his head again. "You must try to get inside. You must do this for me."