A mile! One mile or one hundred miles, Captain Bert knew that his strength was unequal to his task. The man held up by his arm locked with the captain's moaned, and his puffed eyes opened, narrow slits encased in swollen, sooty flesh. "You--you--I thought--" he gasped. "The Crosby fleet----" "Never mind them," said the captain tenderly. "We've got a mile to go yet. Take it easy." "Where is she?" "Who?" "The _Mary Chilton_?" "Oh--her!" disgustedly. "She's all right. So are the Crosby vessels." "You lie! They're burned--every one of them!" He turned his head with a great effort and looked toward the paling flare of what had been the Crosby fleet. But Captain Bert was interested in the gray sloop bearing down on them. He needed his strength, even that which he would spend in the effort of speaking. "Bill," he nevertheless exclaimed, "can't you--grab the gun'le--yourself? My arm--it's about gone. My back----" Bill groaned and stiffly raised one arm from the water, but it fell back heavily. Captain Bert gritted his teeth and his fingers tightened on the gunwale until it seemed that they must gouge into the wood. That was what had tired him--holding on to the gunwale. It wasn't Bill's dead weight that exhausted him. It was the resistance of the jerking little boat upon which their lives depended. Either the light of the burning schooners was dimming fast, or the fog was thickening. The water rippling in the glow grew hazy. It was as if they were rising, he and Bill--rising into a cloud. Dizziness--nausea--scalding water, torturing salt water like acid--the onrushing gray sloop expanding to gigantic proportions like an inflating balloon--voices.... He couldn't stand it. His fingers fell from the gunwale, and water closed soothingly over his head. * * * * * The fog lifted ... two men were talking. Captain Bert looked into the sharp, pale features of a stranger with a small black mustache. The stranger was bending over him, daubing his chest and arms with grease. The wood the captain was lying on was the quarterdeck of Captain Ed Pierce's sloop, and Captain Ed stood nearby at the wheel. Captain Bert felt cool. He smelt camphor. And the gladdening thought that he was not seriously burned was checked by the sight of a heap of canvas lying at his side. "Bill!" he spoke in a far-away voice. "Where's Bill?" But he knew well enough that the canvas hid what had been Bill. "But why torment him? Cap'n Bert never done it," declared Captain Ed. "I've known him since we was boys----" The stranger checked him, and addressing Captain Bert, asked, "Why did you burn the Crosby fleet?" The abruptness of the question brought Captain Bert to his senses. "I ain't so sure I did," he replied. "But your schooner was afire. It ran into them----"