“That is it exactly. What _can_ we do? Frankly, I don’t see that we can do anything at present. We have no boats, and nothing but a boat, and a sharp-edged one at that, could make any way through this morass. And every minute we are getting deeper in. The current below catches our sunken bow, and the wind above catches our uplifted stern, and both sweep us eastward--toward the center of the weed. If we took to a raft we would move much more slowly--but we would starve much more quickly--and our chances of being picked up would not be improved.” “But what will become of us?” “I don’t know. It seems likely that we will be swept into the center of the sea, where there are supposed to be thousands of derelicts, the combings of the North Atlantic for four hundred years--I say ‘supposed’ because nobody has ever seen them, but there isn’t much doubt about it.” Jackson laughed scornfully. “What are you givin’ us?” he demanded incredulously. Dorothy turned to him. “It’s all true,” she corroborated, with a catch in her voice. “Only yesterday Mr. Sprigg told me about it. He was wishing for a chance to explore the place, poor fellow. And now----” She broke off and turned to Howard. “Isn’t there any chance at all of our being picked up?” she asked. Howard shook his head. “None, I fear,” he answered, gently. “I am sorry, Miss Fairfax, more sorry than I can say; but I fear we shall be on this wreck or on another for weeks and months to come. So far as I can see now we can do nothing till we reach the central wreckage. There we may find a boat or the tools to build one--ours are far under water--or some other way to escape.” “It will be desperately hard to wait; to drift deeper and deeper into this tangle day after day, hoping that things will change when they come to the worst; but it’s all we can do. Meanwhile we can thank God that we have food, drink, and comfortable shelter, and we are on our way to see what no one has ever seen before and returned to tell it. Let’s make the best of it.” “The best of it!” Jackson’s face was flushed and his eyes distended. “The best of it!” he vociferated. “By Heaven, it’s well for you to yap! You’re all right here. You’re safe from the electric chair here. You can afford to wait and wait. But how about us? How about me? How about my wife and children?” “It’s hard,” Howard assented. “It’s bitter hard, but----” “Bah! You’re lying to us! You’re a sailor and can get us out of this, if you will. You don’t want to get out. You hope that you’ll get a chance to escape, but, by Heaven, you shan’t! I’ll kill you first! By God, I will!” “It’s your duty to do so!” Howard spoke quietly, but a spot of red glowed on each cheek. “It is your duty to kill me rather than let me escape. But it is not your duty to insult me. I permit no man to do that, and I warn you not to repeat your offense.