She remembered the cataclysmic upheaval which had flung her headlong as she stood beside Lavelle where he worked at the boat. She had gone to him to ask him to pause but a minute to take a little food and drink. He had answered her harshly, she had been thinking; and then a mountainous wave had hurled him against her; into her arms, in fact. She had held him with all her strength, but the sea must have been stronger. It must have taken him. Her memory stopped there.
"Captain! My friend!" she called in anguish to the night. It returned no answer. The wind lashed her face and throat as if determined she should be still. She breasted it with the fierceness of abandonment, lifting her aching arms and sobbing to the heavens:
"My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me? Why did you take him and leave me?"
Even, as this supplication burst from her Chang entered the circle of light, carrying an armful of wood. Rowgowskii followed at his heels, similarly burdened.
"All lite, lady! No be flaid!" called the Chinaman. He dropped the wood as he spoke and ran to her side. Her gaze went expectantly beyond him into the darkness. But the one for whom she looked did not appear.
"The captain—where——"
Emily could not utter another word. She sank back, supporting herself by one arm. She was afraid to listen to the giant's answer.
"Him all lite—bimeby, lady," said Chang.
Her heart surged in joy.
"He is alive?" she gasped. "Where is he?"