"I will," she managed to answer in a voice that seemed to belong to somebody else. She was trembling from head to foot with wonder—wonder of new strange forces clamoring through her being. The one thought which her comprehension dragged out of the riot and held was that this man through whom and by whom she lived trusted her so that he was lying down to sleep in her keeping; that he was depending upon her. Her woman's soul cried out in the pride of possession.
CHAPTER XXV
A violent ringing of the ship's bell and Emily calling him in a voice fraught with excitement aroused Paul. For a second he imagined he was still dreaming.
"Paul! Paul! Quick!"
He sprang out on deck.
"Oh!" Emily gasped in relief. "I thought you would never wake. But look!" She pointed forward. "A boat's there! Right ahead! A man——There!"
Rubbing his sleep-bewildered eyelids, Paul made out a small white boat a point off the Daphne's weather bow and not more than five ship's lengths away. Yes, a man was standing up in it. He was beckoning wildly to the bark and to the sky in turn.
The boat was too far off to make out if the man were alone in it. Paul had to depend on his sight. The bark had been robbed of her glasses.
The Daphne was making about three knots an hour. While he had slept the breeze had lessened. The swell was practically gone.