James dimly perceived that the boats were moving away from them into the darkness.  Then he called, and called again, redoubling his speed in swimming; but only the beat of the oars came back to him over the water.  The heart in him stood still with an unacknowledged fear.  Was it possible they were absolutely leaving them behind?  Surely there were other boats.  He raised his voice and called again and again.  At last one voice, careless and brutal, called back something in reply.  Jim turned questioning eyes to the girl beside him, whose pale face was clearly discernible on the dark water.

“He says the boats are all full.”

“Then we must hurry and make for the yacht.  Where is she?”

The Jeanne D’Arc had slipped away from them into the darkness.

“She was this way, I thought.  Yes, I am sure,” said Agatha, pointing into the night.  But though they swam that way, they did not come upon her.  They turned a little, and then turned again, and presently they lost every sense of direction.

In all his life Jim was never again destined to go through so black an hour as that which followed the abandonment of the Jeanne D’Arc.  His courage left him, and his spirit sank to that leaden, choking abyss where light did not exist.  Since the immediate object of saving the ship, for which he had worked as hard as any other, had been given up, the next in importance was to save the woman who, for some mysterious reason, had been aboard.  It was beyond his power of imagination to suppose that any other motive of action could possibly prevail, even among her enemies.  That they should leave her to drown, while they themselves fled to comparative safety in a boat, was more than he could believe.

“Surely they do not mean it; they must return, for you, at least.”

The girl beside him knew better, but she was conscious of the paralyzing despair in her companion’s heart, and made a show of being cheerful.

“When they find they are safe they may think of us,” she said.  “But the men were already crazed with fear, even before the leak was discovered.  One of their mates on the voyage over was a fortune-teller, and he prophesied danger to them all on their next trip.  After they had come into port, the fortune-teller himself died.  And who can blame them for their fear?  They are all superstitious; and as no one ever regarded their fears, now they have no regard for anybody’s feelings but their own.”

“But we are in the middle of the Atlantic, no one knows where.  We may drift for days—­we may starve—­the Lord only knows what will happen to us!”

Agatha, who had been floating, swam a little nearer and laid her hand on Jim’s shoulder, until he looked into her face.  It was full of strength and brightness.

“‘The sea is His also,’” she quoted gently.  “Besides, we may get picked up,” she went on.  “I’m very well off, for my part, as you see.  Can swim or rest floating, thanks to this blessed cork thing, and not at all hurt by the fall from the rope.  But I must get rid of my shoes and some of my clothes, if I have to swim.”