"The details! Taking away from me all I have worked for--my reputation

as a master, my papers, my standing--my liberty. By the gods, I'm going

to live! I'm going through those breakers! I'll face that gang like a

man who has fought his way back from hell," raged the victim.

"This--this was none of my father's business! It could not have been,"

expostulated Miss Marston.

"Your father never knows anything about the details of Fogg's

operations," declared Bradish.

"He ought to know," insisted the maddened scapegoat. "He gives off his

orders, doesn't he? He sits in the middle of the web. What if he did

know how Fogg was operating?"

"Probably wouldn't stand for it! But he doesn't know. And the Angel

Gabriel himself wouldn't get a chance to tell him!" declared the clerk.

"A put-up job, then, is it--and all called high finance!" jeered Mayo.

"High finance isn't to blame for tricks the field-workers put out

so that they can earn their money quick and easy. What's the good of

pestering me with questions at this awful time? I'm going to die! I'm

going to die!" he wailed.

Miss Marston slid from the seat to her knees, in order that she might

be able to reach her hand to Mayo. "Will you let this handclasp tell

you all I feel about it--all your trouble, all your brave work in this

terrible time? I am so frightened, Captain Mayo! But I'm going to keep

my eyes on you--and I'll be ashamed to show you how frightened I am."

He returned the fervent clasp of her fingers with gentle pressure and

reassuring smile. "Honestly, I feel too ugly to die just now. Let's keep

on hoping."

But when he stood up and beheld the white mountains of water between

their little boat and the shore, and realized what would happen when

they were in that savage tumult, with the undertow dragging and the

surges lashing, he felt no hope within himself.

From the appearance of the coast he could not determine their probable

location. The land was barren and sandy. There seemed to be no inlet.

As far as he could see the line of frothing white was unbroken. The

sea foamed across broad shallows, where no boat could possibly remain

upright and no human being could hope to live.

Nevertheless, he remained standing and peered under his hand, resolved

to be alert till the last, determined to grasp any opportunity.

All at once he beheld certain black lines in perpendicular silhouette

against the foam. At first he was not certain just what they could be,

and he observed them narrowly as the boat tossed on its way.




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