Upon one thing I was determined. If Bertha should ever again be brought
near enough to hear me, I would tell her that I loved her. The object
of life, however much of it might be left me, should be to make Bertha
know that I loved her. If I swam toward the vessel, or floated on a
plank, I must get near enough to tell her that I loved her.

But there was no wind, and the apparent size of the steamer did not
increase. This was a region or season of calms or fitful winds. During
the rest of the day the distant vessel continued to be a black speck
upon the smooth and gently rolling sea. Again I spent the night on
deck, but I did not wake to listen or watch. I was worn out and slept
heavily.

The day was bright when I was awakened by a chilly feeling: a strong
breeze was blowing over me. I sprang to my feet. There was quite a
heavy sea; the vessel was rolling and pitching beneath me, and not far
away, not more than a mile, _La Fidelite_ was coming straight toward
me. Lightly laden, and with a great part of her hull high out of water,
the high wind was driving her before it, while my vessel, her bow to
the breeze, was moving at a much slower rate.

As I looked at the rapidly approaching steamer, it seemed as if she
certainly must run into the _Sparhawk_. But for that I cared not. All
that I now hoped for was that Bertha should come to me. Whether one
vessel sank or the other, or whether both went down together, I should
be with Bertha, I would live or die with her. Mary Phillips stood full
in view on the stern of the oncoming steamer, a speaking-trumpet in
her hand. I could now see that it was not probable that the two vessels
would collide. The steamer would pass me, but probably very near.
Before I could make up my mind what I should do in this momentous
emergency, Mary Phillips hailed me.

"When we get near enough," she shouted, "throw me a rope. I'll tie it
to the boat and cut it loose."

Wildly I looked about me for a line which I might throw. Cordage there
was in abundance, but it was broken or fastened to something, or too
heavy to handle. I remembered, however, seeing a coil of small rope
below, and hastening down, I brought it on deck, took the coil in my
right hand, and stood ready to hurl it when the proper moment should
come.

That moment came quickly. The steamer was not a hundred feet from me
when I reached the deck. It passed me on the port side.

"Be ready!" cried Mary Phillips, the instant she saw