At one o'clock in the morning she fell asleep, and I knelt by her sleeping form, and prayed for mercy and protection.
It was much about this hour that Caudel's face again showed in the hatch. I crawled along the deck and up the steps to him, and he immediately said to me in a voice that trembled with agitation:
"Mr. Barclay, good noose, sir. The gale's ataking off."
I clasped my hands, and could have hugged the dripping figure of the man to my breast.
"Yes, sir," he continued, "the breeze is slackening. There's no mistake about it. The horizon's opening too."
"Heaven be praised. And what of the leak, Caudel?"
"'Taint worse than it was, sir, though it's bad enough."
"If the weather should moderate—"
"Well then, if the leak don't gain, we may manage to carry her home. That'll have to be found out, sir. But seeing the yacht's condition, I shall be for trans-shipping you and the lady to anything inwards bound, that may come along. Us men'll take the yacht to port, providing she'll let us." He paused, and then said: "There might be no harm now, perhaps, in firing off that there gun. If a smack 'ud show herself, she'd be willing to stand by for the sake of the salvage. We'll also send up a few rockets, sir. But how about the young lady, Mr. Barclay?"
"Everything must be done," I replied, "that is likely to preserve our lives."