the raft. But we've got to git out o' this!"

He passed his hand through her arm, awaited a favorable moment, and
then, making a dash for the stairs, drew her, as best he might, to the
deck. At the head of the companionway, the wind smote them fiercely with
sheets of foam, but his strength stood him in good stead, and bracing
himself hard, the man managed to maintain his stand; holding the child
close to him, he sheltered her somewhat from the full force of the
storm. As he cast his glance over the deck, an oath burst from his lips;
the convicts had succeeded in launching one of the rafts and leaving the
ship by means of it, or else had been carried away by the seas. Of
living man, he caught no sight; only a single one of the dead yet
remained, sliding about on the slippery planks with the movement of the
ship; now to leeward, now rushing in a contrary direction, as if some
grotesque spirit of life yet animated the dark, shapeless form.

From wave-washed decks the man's glance turned to the sea; suddenly he
started; his eyes straining, he stared hard. "Maybe they've missed you.
One of the ship's boats seems headin' this way!"

Her gaze followed his; at intervals through driving spray a small craft
could be discerned, not far distant, now riding high on a crest, now
vanishing in a black furrow.

"Are they coming back to save us?" asked the child.

The convict did not answer. Could the boat make the ship, could it hope
to, in that sea? It was easier getting away than getting back. Besides,
the opportunity for a desperate, heroic attempt to come alongside was
not to be given her, for scarcely had they caught sight of her, when the