Dawn came slowly. The mists lifted, but only to show a wild waste of water ruffled by a rising wind, and the sea-horses moaning and fretting round the doomed vessel, as though waiting for their prey. Helen shivered, and her courage began to fail. The water was rising, and people were climbing into the rigging. "Father! father!" she cried wildly; but there was no answer, only a faint moan that sounded as though it came from someone quite close to her. Helen paused. The sound was so pitiful it arrested her attention. She looked about, and presently she descried a crouched-up figure close beside her clinging to a hand-rail that had formed part of some steps leading to the bridge. The girl put out her hand and touched the recumbent figure. "Are you hurt?" she asked. "Can I help you?" Helen felt her hand clutched, and the figure raised itself. Then she started back, for in the wild, terror-stricken face that met her gaze she recognized her stepmother. "Mamma!" "Helen!" "Where is my father?" The words burst from Helen's lips in agonized entreaty. Mrs. Desmond shook her head. "I do not know," she answered feebly. "He left me safe, as he thought. I only went back to fetch a few things that I was trying to preserve, and that he had taken from me and thrown on the deck. There was plenty of time, everyone said. And when I returned my place was taken. It was wicked, cowardly. And I have been alone ever since." "But my father, my father?" repeated Helen impatiently. "How can I tell? He went in search of you. It was a terrible risk; I told him so. You should have been with us." A pang smote Helen's heart. She had been unlucky again. But for that profound sleep that had fallen upon her on deck she might easily have found her father at the first alarm. "He cannot be far away. He would never forsake us," she said, wrenching her hand from her stepmother's grasp. "I must find him." "O, Helen, do not leave me!" moaned Mrs. Desmond, raising herself and clinging to the girl's drenched skirts, "it is so terrible to be alone, and I am so weak. If any help came I might be passed over and forgotten. I cannot scream as some people do. Stay with me, Helen, stay with me." Helen stood for a moment irresolute. If she remained here she must abandon all hope of finding her father, almost, it seemed to her, all hope of life. And the water was always mounting higher. She was not weak like her stepmother. If no other help was at hand she might climb with others into the rigging and wait for the aid that must surely come. And there would be always that chance of finding her father. "If I find father he will be able to help you," she said, moving away a little.