so far, but he may have to leave the work to some one else.”
His voice shook with a sudden earnestness that was startling.
“Promise me, Billy Wentworth,” he said, “promise me that if you’re the only one that comes to shore after this cruise, you’ll see that land is safe whatever happens.”
“I promise,” Billy assured him, trembling with excitement at the rush of new, strange ideas that suddenly came tumbling into his mind; “but, Captain Saulsby, of course we’re—we’re going to come ashore together.”
“You can’t always tell, boy,” the other answered, his very voice showing the weakness that was gradually overcoming his iron determination. “I’m not so young as sailormen sometimes are, and—even—the—young—ones—don’t—always—hold—on—forever.”
He collapsed sideways even as he spoke and would have pitched into the water had not Billy caught him. The wrench almost destroyed his own balance, but he managed somehow to cling to the centre-board and keep them both still upon the overturned boat.
It grew darker and darker, and the wide stretch of sea turned from blue to shadowy
