an instant--just one--held her off. His
arms doubled beneath the strain, and then came the back-wash.

Oh, heaven! it had swept them clear. The rock was behind, the sail drew,
and swiftly they fled away from the death that had seemed certain.

Stella sighed aloud, while Morris wiped the water from his face.

"Are we clear?" she asked presently.

"Of the Sunk Rocks? Yes, we are round them. But the North Sea is in
front of us, and what looks like the worst gale that has blown this
autumn is rising behind."

"This is a good sea-boat, and on the open water I think perhaps that we
ought to weather it," she said, trying to speak cheerfully, as Morris
stowed the sail, for in that wind they wanted no canvas.

"I wish we had something to eat," she added presently; "I am so hungry."

"By good luck I can help you there," he answered. "Yesterday I was out
fishing and took lunch for myself and the boatman; but the fish wouldn't
bite, so we came back without eating it, and it is still in the locker.
Shift a little, please, I will get the basket."

She obeyed, and there was the food sure enough, plenty of it. A thick
packet of sandwiches, and two boiled eggs, a loaf, and a large lump of
cheese for the boatman, a flask of whiskey, a bottle of beer, another of
water, and two of soda. They ate up the sandwiches and the eggs, Morris
drinking the beer and Stella the soda water, for whiskey as yet she
would not touch.

"Now," she said, "we are still provisioned for twenty-four hours with
the bread and cheese, the water and the soda which is left."

"Yes," he answered, "if we don't sink or die of cold we shall not
starve. I never thought that sandwiches were so good before;" and he
looked hungrily at the loaf.

"You had better put it away; you may want it later," she suggested. And
he put it away.

"Tell me, if you don't mind," he asked, for the food and the lightening
of the strain upon his nerves had made him conversational, "what is that
song which you sang upon the ship, and why did you sing it?"

She coloured a little, and smiled, a sweet smile that seemed to begin in
her eyes.

"It is an old Norse chant which my mother taught me; she was a Dane, as
my father is also by descent. It has come down in her family for many,
many generations, and the legend is that the women of her race always
sang it or repeated it while the men were fighting, and, if they had the
strength, in the hour of their own death. I believe that is tr