toward the seas, the boat shipped little water. Keith's thoughts were concerned chiefly with the problem of whether the strength of the crew or the gale would first give out. In another couple of hours as the blacks' muscles grew weary, the boat would begin to be carried remorselessly away from Tamba and Tao Tao.
The wind lashed the water savagely, sometimes cutting thin slices clean off the surface and hurling them hundreds of feet.
In an hour the blacks had lost ground to the extent of about a mile. The strain was beginning to tell on them. Keith feared to urge them on too much lest they should use up all their strength and become virtually useless.
Another hour, and Tamba was further away than ever. Keith put his hand on Joan's shoulder.
"Don't be scared, Joan," he said reassuringly. "The niggers aren't beaten yet, and maybe we'll be having supper in a while on board the Kestrel."
Joan smiled faintly. Though she had not lost courage there seemed to her little immediate prospect of any such thing happening.
"Shall we make it?" she asked calmly.
Keith wanted to lie to her—wanted to lie more than anything in the world except get the boat under shelter. Her brown eyes were looking up into his trustfully.
"It—it doesn't look much like it for the mo-
