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The Wings of the Morning by Louis Tracy
page 47 of 373 (12%)
intent was to scoop a large hole in the sand with a piece of timber;
but when he took into consideration the magnitude of the labor
involved, requiring many hours of hard work and a waste of precious
time which might be of infinite value to his helpless companion and
himself, he was forced to abandon the project. It was not only
impracticable but dangerous.

Again he had to set his teeth with grim resolution. One by one the
bodies were shot into the lagoon from the little quay of rock. He knew
they would not be seen again.

He was quite unnerved now. He felt as if he had committed a colossal
crime. In the smooth water of the cove a number of black fins were
cutting arrow-shaped ripples. The sharks were soon busy. He shuddered.
God's Providence had ferried him and the girl across that very place a
few hours ago. How wonderful that he and she should be snatched from
the sea whilst hundreds perished! Why was it? And those others--why
were they denied rescue? For an instant he was nearer to prayer than he
had been for years.

Some lurking fiend of recollection sprang from out the vista of bygone
years and choked back the impulse. He arose and shook himself like a
dog. There was much to be done. He gathered the clothes and other
articles into a heap and placed portions of shattered packing-cases
near--to mislead Iris. Whilst thus engaged he kicked up out of the sand
a rusty kriss, or Malay sword. The presence of this implement startled
him. He examined it slowly and thrust it out of sight.

Then he went back to her, after donning his stockings and boots, now
thoroughly dry.
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