When the boat slipped clear of the vessel, and Hugh turned about and
realized that he was alone, he sank down on the seat as if powerless to
move.
Where was Dexie? How had she escaped? No cry had reached his ears, no sound
of splashing water warned him that she had gone over the side. Yet he was
alone, Alone!
His terrified glance swept the water around him, as if he expected to see
her upturned face in the waves that mocked his misery by their ceaseless
motion.
Merciful Heaven, had he lost her, after all; lost the life that was dearer
to him than his own? It could not be. A few rapid strokes, and he was again
at the vessel's side, intending to summon assistance from those on board to
aid him in his search. Had either of them known that the two men on board
the vessel were hopelessly drunk in their berths below, and that the rest
of the crew were about returning from Halifax charged with hell-fire in the
shape of Water Street whiskey, it might have made some difference in the
actions of both.
Dexie watched Hugh's movements with interest, but when she saw him
approaching the vessel her fear of him again increased, and she rose and
confronted him.
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