water. The belts were painted white, and they showed for a few seconds,
as they fell, like bright specks on the surface of the darkling sea; then
they sunk slowly behind as the big ship, still not quite stopped,
ploughed her way ahead with gigantic force into the great abyss of
darkness in front of her.

It seemed but a minute, too, to the watchers on board, before a party of
sailors, summoned by the whistle with that marvellous readiness to meet
any emergency which long experience of sudden danger has rendered
habitual among seafaring men, had lowered the boat, and taken their seats
on the thwarts, and seized their oars, and were getting under way on
their hopeless quest of search, through the dim black night, for those
two belated souls alone in the midst of the angry Pacific.

It seemed but a minute or two, I say, to the watchers on board; but oh,
what an eternity of time to Felix Thurstan, struggling there with his
live burden in the seething water!

He had dashed into the ocean, which was dark, but warm with tropical
heat, and had succeeded, in spite of the heavy seas then running, in
reaching Muriel, who clung to him now with all the fierce clinging of
despair, and impeded his movement through that swirling water. More than
that, he saw the white life-belts that the sailors flung toward him; they
were well and aptly flung, in the inspiration of the moment, to allow for
the sea itself carrying them on the crest of its waves toward the two
drowning creatures. Felix saw them distinctly, and making a great lunge
as they passed, in spite of Muriel's struggles, which sadly hampered his
movements, he managed to clutch at no less than three before the great
billow, rolling on, carried them off on its top forever away from him.
Two of these he slipped hastily over Muriel's shoulders; the other he