one was shipwrecked against one's will.

So he alternately swam toward where he expected to find land, and
floated on his back to rest.

"A swell ending to a great life, if I don't make it," he told himself.
"I wonder how the old man will take it when the world reads that the
_Bengal Queen_ went down with all on board? He'll be relieved, maybe,
for he was about ready to wash his hands of me if I can read signs at
all."

* * * * *

It might be said that Bentley was his own worst critic, for he really
was not a bad sort of a fellow. He was a good American, over-educated
perhaps, with a yen to delve into forbidden places usually avoided by
his own kind, and of digging into books which were better left with
the pages unturned. There were strange ruins in Africa, he knew. He
had gathered a weird fund of information from such books as he could
unearth relative to ancient ruins and vanished races, to the lurid
accounts of strange deaths of the various scientists who had taken
active part in the opening of the tomb of Tutankhamen.

There were queer things in the heart of darkest Africa, and such
things intrigued him. He could take whatever chances with his life he
saw fit, for his only relative was a father, and he had never attached
himself to any woman nor permitted any woman to attach herself to
him--because he could never be sure that her interest might not
primarily be in his bank account.

"If, as, and when," he told himself as he rode the waves through the
night, "I reach the coast I'll be tossed into black Africa in a way I
was not expecting. Anyway, if I live through, I can at least go about
my work without the governor interfering. I only hope it won't be hard
on the old fellow. He isn't a bad egg at all, and I guess I have given
him plenty to think about and worry over."

He turned on his stomach again and struck out. He had managed to rid
himself of all of his clothing except his underwear. They had only
weighed him down, and he recalled, with a wry grin, that Africa as a
whole went in but little for the latest in men's sport wear.

* * * * *

It must have been a good hour since he had lost the _Bengal Queen_
back there in the raging deep, that he heard the faint call through
the murk.

"Help, for God's sake!"

He listened for a repetition of the call, minded to believe that his
ears had tricked him. He fancied it had been a woman's voice, b