terrorized her for what seemed an eternity.

After the last, long dive the Ithaca righted herself
laboriously, wallowing drunkenly, but apparently upon
an even keel in less turbulent waters. One long minute
dragged after another, yet no suffocating deluge poured
in upon the girl, and presently she realized that the
ship had, at least temporarily, weathered the awful
buffeting of the savage elements. Now she felt but a
gentle roll, though the wild turmoil of the storm still
came to her ears through the heavy planking of the
Ithaca's hull.

For a long hour she lay wondering what fate had
overtaken the vessel and whither she had been driven,
and then, with a gentle grinding sound, the ship
stopped, swung around, and finally came to rest with a
slight list to starboard. The wind howled about her,
the torrential rain beat loudly upon her, but except
for a slight rocking the ship lay quiet.

Hours passed with no other sounds than those of the
rapidly waning tempest. The girl heard no signs of
life upon the ship. Her curiosity became more and more
keenly aroused. She had that indefinable, intuitive
feeling that she was utterly alone upon the vessel,
and at length, unable to endure the inaction and
uncertainty longer, made her way to the companion
ladder where for half an hour she futilely attempted
to remove the hatch.