Page 708 - for-the-term-of-his-natural-life

schooner, no longer steadied by the wind, was at the mercy
of every sea. Volumes of water poured over her. Presently
she heeled over, for, with a triumphant scream, the wind
leapt on to her from a fresh quarter. Following its usual
course, the storm returned upon its track. The hurricane
was about to repeat itself from the north-west.
The sea, pouring down through the burst hatchway, tore
the door of the cuddy from its hinges. Sylvia found herself
surrounded by a wildly-surging torrent which threatened
to overwhelm her. She shrieked aloud for aid, but her voice
was inaudible even to herself. Clinging to the mast which
penetrated the little cuddy, she fixed her eyes upon the door
behind which she imagined North was, and whispered a last
prayer for succour. The door opened, and from out the cab-
in came a figure clad in black. She looked up, and the light
of the expiring lamp showed her a face that was not that of
the man she hoped to see. Then a pair of dark eyes beam-
ing ineffable love and pity were bent upon her, and a pair
of dripping arms held her above the brine as she had once
been held in the misty mysterious days that were gone.
In the terror of that moment the cloud which had so
long oppressed her brain passed from it. The action of the
strange man before her completed and explained the action
of the convict chained to the Port Arthur coal-wagons, of
the convict kneeling in the Norfolk Island torture-chamber.
She remembered the terrible experience of Macquarie Har-
bour. She recalled the evening of the boat-building, when,
swung into the air by stalwart arms, she had promised the
rescuing prisoner to plead for him with her kindred. Re-

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