But a single fire
remained in sight, and that glimmered like a dying blaze. At times the
wind came hot and arid, savouring of the Desert, and then intervals of
death-like calm would follow. Paul watched the boat narrowly for half an
hour, turning every breath of air to the best account, though he was
absolutely ignorant of his position. The reef had not been seen again, and
three several times they grounded, the tide as often floating them off.
The course, too, had been repeatedly varied. The result was that painful
and profound sensation of helplessness that overcomes us all when the
chain of association is broken, and reason becomes an agent less useful
than instinct.
"The last fire is out," whispered Paul. "I fear that the day will dawn
and find us still within the reef."
"I see an object near us. Can it be a high bank?"
The wind had entirely ceased, and the boat was almost without motion. Paul
saw a darkness more intense even than common ahead of him, and he leaned
forward, naturally raising a hand before him in precaution. Something he
touched, he knew not what; but feeling a hard smooth surface, that he at
first mistook for a rock, he raised his eyes slowly, and discerned, by the
little light that lingered in the vault of heaven, a dim tracery that he
recognized.
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