signalled, it drew near, and two men dragged the body in, as a shark
darted forward, just too late, to seize it. The boat drew alongside the
'Fulvia'. I stood at the gangway to receive this castaway. I felt his
wrist and heart. As I did so I chanced to glance up at the passengers,
who were looking at this painful scene from the upper deck. There,
leaning over the railing, stood Mrs. Falchion, her eyes fixed with a
shocking wonder at the drooping, weird figure. Her lips parted, but at
first they made no sound. Then, she suddenly drew herself up with a
shudder. "Horrible! horrible!" she said, and turned away.

I had Boyd Madras taken to an empty cabin next to mine, which I used for
operations, and there Hungerford and myself worked to resuscitate him.
We allowed no one to come near. I had not much hope of bringing life
back, but still we worked with a kind of desperation, for it seemed to
Hungerford and myself that somehow we were responsible to humanity for
him. His heart had been weak, but there had been no organic trouble:
only some functional disorder, which open-air life and freedom from
anxiety might have overcome. Hungerford worked with an almost fierce
persistence. Once he said: "By God, I will bring him back, Marmion, to
face that woman down when she thinks she has got the world on the hip!"

I cannot tell what delight we felt when, after a little time, I saw a
quiver of the eyelids and a slight motion of the chest. Presently a
longer breath came, and the eyes opened; at first without recognition.
Then, in a few moments, I knew that he was safe--desperately against his
will, but safe.

His first sentient words startled me. He gasped, "Does she think I am
drowned?"