The waves reached the dinghy,
raised it and dropped it with a slow gurgling, then died away in firefly
glimmers. The sea presented once more a dim gray surface. To Madden's
mind there came, with a sharp sense of pathos, the picture of the little
sunny-haired girl he had seen in the chart room.
"Sunk," murmured Greer in a strange tone, "sunk--when she was as dry as
a chip."
"Heeled over," shivered Madden, "heeled over in a dead calm--God have
mercy on us!"
CHAPTER XI
CARADOC SHOWS HIS METTLE
Heat, that grew more terrific as the dock drifted southward; hunger,
that gnawed like rats at the empty stomachs of the crew; withering heat,
aching hunger, growing despair--that was life on the floating dock.
Of all the crew only Gaskin remained in good condition. It would have
required more than a hero to cook food and go hungry, but the crew made
no such allowances. They berated the dignified Gaskin, they eyed each
other's scant portions jealously. Their quarrels over food at last
forced Madden to weigh each man's allowance to the fraction of an ounce.
The nerves of the crew frayed out in the heat. By night they slept amid
tantalizing dreams of food; by day they sprawled in dreary silences
under awnings which held heat like sweat boxes. The high metal walls of
the dock caught the sun's rays and threw out a furnace heat.
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