n instant she took Jessop's hand between both of hers.

"Poor Jessop," she said softly, "I forgive you freely, and I do hope you
will get better soon."

He looked at her with dimmed, wistful eyes. "Thank you, miss. You're
very kind to a cove like me. Will you 'old me 'and a bit longer,
please."

Early in the afternoon, as the boat slipped lazily over the gentle ocean
swell, he died. And though Atkins and Harvey would have liked to have
acceded to his last wishes to be buried on shore, stern necessity
forbade them so doing, for they knew not how long it would be ere they
reached Pikirami; and so at sunset his body was consigned to the deep.

*****

For the rest of that day, and during the night, when the white rain
squalls came with a droning, angry hum from the eastward and drenched
the people with a furious downpour, flattening the heaving swell with
its weight, the boat kept steadily on her course; and, but for the
shadow of death which hourly grew darker over poor Morrison, the
voyagers would have talked and laughed and made light of their sodden
and miserable surroundings. Morrison himself was the most cheerful man
in the boat, and when Atkins and Harvey rigged an oilskin coat over him
to keep the rain from his face at least he protested as vigorously as
he could, saying that he did not mind the rain a bit, and urging them
to use it to protect "the two lassies" from the blinding and deafening
downpour.

*****

Dawn at last.

The misty sea haze lifted and scattered before the first breath of the
gentle breeze, a blood-red sun leapt from the shimmering water-line to
windward; a frigate bird and his mate swept swiftly through the air
from the westward to view the dark spot upon the ocean two thousand feet
below, and day had come again.

Tessa had the engineer's old, grey head pillowed on her lap. Harvey held
his right hand, and Atkins, who knew that the end was near, had taken
off his soddened cap, and bent his face low over the haft of the
steer-oar.

"Do you feel any pain, Mr. Morrison?" asked Tessa, as she stroked the
old man's face, and tried to hide her tears.

"Well, I wouldna be for saying no, and I wouldna be for saying yes, my
dearie," replied the brave old fellow; "I'm no complaining aboot mysel',
but I'd like to see ye 'saft and warm,' as we Scots say, instead of
sitting here wi' my auld, greasy head in your lap, and your ain puir
body shivering wi' cauld. Gie me your hand, Harvey Carr... and