So there he sat, wondering if Margaret was dead, as Peter seemed to be dead, and if so, whether their spirits were watching him now, watching and waiting till he joined them. He thought, too, of the days of his prosperity until he had seen the accursed face of d’Aguilar, and of all the worthless wealth that was his, and what would become of it. He hoped even that Margaret was gone; better that she should be dead than live on in shame and misery. If there were a God, how came it that He could allow such things to happen in the world? Then he remembered how, when Job sat in just such an evil case, his wife had invited him to curse God and die, and how the patriarch had answered to her, “What! shall we receive good at the hand of God, and shall we not receive evil?” Remembered, too, after all his troubles, what had been the end of that just man, and therefrom took some little comfort. After this a stupor crept over him, and his last thought was that the vessel had sunk and he was departing into the deeps of death. Listen! A voice called, and Castell awoke to see that it was growing light, and that before him supporting himself on the rail of the ladder, stood the tall form of Peter—Peter with a ghastly, blood-stained countenance, chattering teeth, and glazed, unnatural eyes. “Do you live, John Castell?” said that hollow voice, “or are we both dead and in hell?” “Nay,” he answered, “I live yet; we are still this side of doom.” “What has chanced?” asked Peter. “I have been lost in a great blackness.” Castell told him briefly. Peter listened till he had done, then staggered to the bulwark rail and looked about him, making no comment. “I can see nothing,” he said presently—“the mist is too deep; but I think we must lie near the shore. Come, help me. Let us try to find victuals; I am faint.” Castell rose, stretched his cramped limbs, and going to him, placed his uninjured arm round Peter’s middle, and thus supported him towards the stern of the ship, where he guessed that the main cabin would be. They found and entered it, a small place, but richly furnished, with a carved crucifix screwed to its sternmost wall. A piece of pickled meat and some of the hard wheaten cakes such as sailors use, lay upon the floor where they had been cast from the table, while in a swinging rack above stood flagons of wine and of water. Castell found a horn mug, and filling it with wine gave it to Peter, who drank greedily, then handed it back to him, who also drank. Afterwards they cut off portions of the meat with their knives, and swallowed them, though Peter did this with great difficulty because of the hurt to his head and neck. Then they drank more wine, and, somewhat refreshed, left the place.