must certainly
have been swept away and drowned.

I was so numbed that it was with great difficulty I could move my
stiffened limbs and stagger to my feet; and when George spoke to me I
discovered that I was nearly deaf--a result probably due to aggravation
of the cold from which I had previously been suffering. What sort of
an object I myself presented I have no means of telling, but when I
looked at George I was shocked at his woebegone appearance. His face
was haggard and pinched with cold, and something of that long night of
terror seemed to remain in the wild glitter of his eyes. His cap was
lost, and his sodden and dishevelled clothing hung about him like rags.
Becoming aware of the fact that I was looking at him, he pointed,
mutely with his finger. I saw in a moment what he meant; and if it had
been possible for hope and courage to sink lower in my breast, they
would surely have done so then. The sea had made a clean sweep of the
rocky platform, and the raft was gone!

Save one piece of splintered board, which the waves had wedged into a
fissure of the rock, not a fragment of wood remained in our possession;
and not only had the wreckage been washed away from the spot where we
had stored it, but the retreating tide, and some change in the
currents, seemed to have carried it once more out to sea. I had
reached a condition of despair and misery far beyond that which can
find relief in tears; I could only stare in a dull, stupefied fashion
at the empty space of cold, wet rock.

Woodley said something, but I could not catch his words.

"Speak louder," I answered, in a voice as hoarse as a crow's. "I can't
hear; I believe I'm going deaf."

"All the timber's gone--every inch," cried George, coming nearer.
"I've been having a look round, and there's nothing left but a lump of
cheese and a bundle of rope what's up there in the 'cupboard.' I'm
afraid we've played our last card, Master Eden."

I knew what he meant. If the sea continued rough, as there was every
probability of its doing, we should never be able to hold out a second
time when the tide rose and once more flooded our refuge. The misery
and mental anguish through which we had passed had, I think, gone far
to rob us both of the fear of death; but the form in which it appeared
was terrible to contemplate, and the longing for life still throbbed
fiercely in our breasts.

I said nothing; but feeling the water squelching in my boots, I emptied
the