"Father," she said, when the old man had turned out for breakfast, "look at this chart." She spread it out, clear of the dishes, and drew a line from the night time position of the ship to the point indicated by her drift, and from this point drew a line south by west. It intercepted the other on the coast of Desolation Island. "Last night, father," she said, "he was calling insistently. I saw him plainly, and he held a compass in his hands, and pointed to the lubber's point. It was at south by west, half west. I told you that; but you refused to believe me. I have plotted the drift during the night--eleven miles due southwest--and here is the drift on this line. Here, too, is our position this morning. Just before I wakened I saw a large compass, filling the whole room, and the lubber's point was at south by west. A south by west line from here intercepts the same spot on the coast of Desolation Island as the other. Father, he is there! It all fits in. We must go to him." "Well, well, we'll try," said the old man weakly. "God knows I want to ease your mind, and until you are sure I suppose you'll think he's still alive. It's a tough job, though, to search an island eighty miles long where it rains continually." Sail was made, and the wheel put up; but as the wind was light it was nightfall before the big, light ship sailed into an estuary, with two men at the leadlines, and anchored in the dusk, not half a mile from the beach. The girl would have lowered a boat and gone ashore at once; but this was beyond all reason, they told her, the two mates joining the captain in the protest. This was not what they had signed for, they contended. So, up and down from her berth to the deck, and back and forth from end to end of the ship, the half demented young woman passed the night, and at the first glimmer of daylight was beyond her limitations. The quarter boat was proved leaky, and had been left behind. All others were inboard, stowed upside down on the forward house. The ship's one life-buoy had gone with Bridge. She procured a piece of spun yarn from the booby hatch, triced her skirts up to her waist, and, unseen by the sleepy anchor watch forward, went down the side on a rope's end belayed to a pin. There was a brisk wind blowing in from the open sea, and a short, crispy wave motion with which she must contend; but she struck out bravely for the beach. "I am coming!" she called wildly. "I am coming--coming!" Skilled seamen and fishermen are often deceived in the look of a surf viewed from seaward, and many a boat's crew that hopes to beach safely is caught and half drowned in a furious turmoil that can be seen only from the shore. This mad girl had no advantage of such experience, and probably would not have been influenced by it had it come to her. She swam vigorously at first, then rested awhile on her back, and went on, swimming till tired, and floating until rested.