It may also save
critics some moments' search if I say at once that, after careful
consideration, I have been unable to discover any moral whatsoever in
this humble narrative. I venture to believe that in so enlightened an age
the majority of my readers will never miss it.
G.A.
THE NOOK, DORKING, October, 1890.
CHAPTER I.
IN MID PACIFIC.
"Man overboard!"
It rang in Felix Thurstan's ears like the sound of a bell. He gazed about
him in dismay, wondering what had happened.
The first intimation he received of the accident was that sudden sharp
cry from the bo'sun's mate. Almost before he had fully taken it in, in
all its meaning, another voice, farther aft, took up the cry once more in
an altered form: "A lady! a lady! Somebody overboard! Great heavens, it
is _her_! It's Miss Ellis! Miss Ellis!"
Next instant Felix found himself, he knew not how, struggling in a wild
grapple with the dark, black water. A woman was clinging to him--clinging
for dear life. But he couldn't have told you himself that minute how it
all took place. He was too stunned and dazzled.
He looked around him on the seething sea in a sudden awakening, as it
were, to life and consciousness. All about, the great water stretched
dark and tumultuous. White breakers surged over him. Far ahead the
steamer's lights gleamed red and green in long lines upon the ocean.
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