was all. So I must sit up one hour more, and keep a sharper eye than ever for the tiniest glimmer of a sail. To what end, I often asked myself? I might see them; they would never see me.
Then my eyes would fail, and “you squeamish fool!” I said at intervals, until my tongue failed to articulate; it had swollen so in my mouth. Flying fish skimmed the water like thick spray; petrels were so few that I could count them; another shark swam round me for an hour. In sudden panic I dashed my knuckles
life itself to know. But in that tick of time a quick step came behind me, and the light went out of the sweet face upturned to mine.
“I cannot! I must not! Here is - that man!”
Senhor Santos was all smiles and rings of pale-blue smoke.
“You will be cut off, friend Cole,” said he. “The fire is spreading.”