recurred to me over and over again. It might mean that Bertha could not
return my affection. She knew that I loved her, but she could not love
me.

In the morning I ate something and then lay down upon the deck to
sleep. It was well that I should do this, I thought, because if Bertha
came near me again in the daytime Mary Phillips would hail me if I were
not awake. All night long I would watch, and, as there was a moon, I
would see Bertha's vessel if it came again.

I did watch all that afternoon and all that night, and during my
watching I never ceased to wonder and conjecture what Mary Phillips
meant by that word "but."

About the middle of the next day I saw in the distance something upon
the water. I first thought it a bit of spray, for it was white, but as
there were now no waves there could be no spray. With the glass I could
only see that it was something white shining in the sun. It might be
the glistening body of a dead fish. After a time it became plainer to
me. It was such a little object that the faint breezes which
occasionally arose had more influence upon the _Sparhawk_ than upon
it, and so I gradually approached it.

In about an hour I made out that it was something round, with something
white raised above it, and then I discovered that it was a
life-preserver, which supported a little stick, to which a white flag,
probably a handkerchief, was attached. Then I saw that on the
life-preserver lay a little yellow mass.

Now I knew what it was that I saw. It was a message from Bertha. Mary
Phillips had devised the means of sending it. Bertha had sent it.

The life-preserver was a circular one, filled with air. In the centre
of this, Mary, by means of many strings, had probably secured a stick
in an upright position; she had then fastened a handkerchief to the top
of the stick. Bertha had written a message and Mary had wrapped it in a
piece of oiled silk and fastened it to the life-preserver. She had
then lowered this contrivance to the surface of the water, hoping that
it would float to me or I would float to it.

I was floating to it. It contained the solution of all my doubts, the
answer to all my conjectures. It was Bertha's reply to my declaration
of love, and I was drifting slowly but surely toward it. Soon I would
know.

But after a time the course of the _Sparhawk_ or the course of the
message changed. I drifted to the north. Little by little my course
deviated from the line on which I m