Sometimes they caught the dull gray flash of breaking
waters, but more often everything was hidden. The roar of the wind and
wave was incessant.
Dan's efforts to keep the derelict's head to the seas had failed. The
hulk had slued around and was driving before the tempest, whither he
did not know. Groaning, crashing, crackling, the hulk lumbered on.
Once a wave leaped over the stern, stunning them with its thunderous
impact, dragging at them powerfully, as though to draw them back into
the sea whence it came.
Plunging thus, helpless, unseeing, they seemed to be flying as swiftly
as the wind. A wild ride--to where? Were they driving out into the
lonely heart of the deep, there to perish in a last long dive? Or was
it shoreward, with oblivion coming in the dreadful grinding and
crashing and shattering of timbers?
Neither had the heart for even a faint hope for safety; and yet Dan,
with his hands stiffened on the wheel spokes, fought on. The girl,
with her head bowed, sat still, her hands clinging to his shoulders.
They did not speak. Twice Dan had attempted to utter a cheering word,
but the wind had swept the sounds from his lips.
Both knew that at any moment the derelict might succumb to the forces
striving to destroy her. And, as they sat waiting, the realization
came to both what a small part of the incidents of this heaving night
the dismemberment of their washing vessel would be.
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