The sight of the bleeding, lifeless beast set my thoughts running on the hours the girl, whilst alone, had spent in this hull, and I wondered when I looked at the rat and listened to the shrieking and grinding noises, that she had not days before gone off her head. I guessed that her mind had been cast in a heroic mould; never else could she have come through such a term of loneliness with her wits all right. Less had driven strong men overboard, gaping madmen.
Whilst I sat following the wild and flying motions of the hull, testing them by sensation to gather if the buoyancy diminished, I was addressed. I looked round with a sudden surprise that was nearly fright: it was Miss Otway, furred and clothed from head to foot as she had left me.
'Are you going to sit up all night?' she exclaimed.
'I'm going to sit here,' I answered. 'I shall snooze at intervals.'
'Let me watch whilst you sleep,' said she.
'There's nothing to watch,' I answered, 'nothing to keep a look-out for.'
'A ship might see our lantern and come down to us.'
'She could do nothing in this weather.'
'But to think of being asleep whilst a vessel is coming down to see what the light means! Think of her hailing, getting no answer and passing on. It might be our only chance.'