of iron stanchions that lined the long interior of the dock.
“I'm afraid I'll have to stop that painting,” remarked Leonard after watching them a moment.
“They'll be very glad of it—but why?”
“It consumes too much energy. The men can live on less if they quit work.”
“Oh, I see.”
“I think I shall have to cut their food down to half rations. We've been adrift nearly sixteen days now and not a smoke plume from the Vulcan. She has lost us—if she didn't founder.”
“Any chance of meeting some other vessel?”
“Here in the ocean's graveyard?”
“Are we far in?” inquired Smith with rising concern.
“Close to three hundred miles, and getting deeper every day.”
The two walked on mechanically, with the precise step of those who seek exercise. The rim of the sun cut the edge of the ocean and a long trail of light made the east difficult for their eyes.
