But relief was vouchsafed in the worst throes of her agony. It was
some poor consolation to let her sorrow-laden eyes rest on the far-off
trees which enshrouded him. What would befall her when night came, and
the ship drew back out of the living world into the narrow gloom of
deck and gangway, she could not know. She felt that her labored heart
would refuse to bear its pangs any longer. If death came, that would
be sweet. Her only hope lay in the life beyond the grave. . . . And
what a grave! For her, the restless tides. For him! Surely her mind
would yield to this increasing madness.
Boyle or Gray had never relaxed their vigil by her side. It was Gray
who made the thrilling discovery that the canoes were returning. As
the fleet crossed the bay it could be seen that they were towing the
life-boat. But never a sign of any prisoners could the most careful
scrutiny detect. The boat was empty; it was easy to count every man in
the canoes as they passed into Otter Creek. And there were wounded
Indians on board many of them. That was a significant, a tremendous,
fact. There had been hard fighting, and the boat was captured, but
some, if not all, of the crew must have joined their comrades in the
sanctuary of the haunted cave.
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