He had dashed into the ocean, which was dark, but warm with tropical heat, and had succeeded, in spite of the heavy seas then running, in reaching Muriel, who clung to him now with all the fierce clinging of despair, and impeded his movement through that swirling water.  More than that, he saw the white life-belts that the sailors flung toward him; they were well and aptly flung, in the inspiration of the moment, to allow for the sea itself carrying them on the crest of its waves toward the two drowning creatures.  Felix saw them distinctly, and making a great lunge as they passed, in spite of Muriel’s struggles, which sadly hampered his movements, he managed to clutch at no less than three before the great billow, rolling on, carried them off on its top forever away from him.  Two of these he slipped hastily over Muriel’s shoulders; the other he put, as best he might, round his own waist; and then, for the first time, still clinging close to his companion’s arm, and buffeted about wildly by that running sea, he was able to look about him in alarm for a moment, and realize more or less what had actually happened.

By this time the Australasian was a quarter of a mile away in front of them, and her lights were beginning to become stationary as she slowly slowed and reversed engines.  Then, from the summit of a great wave, Felix was dimly aware of a boat being lowered—­for he saw a separate light gleaming across the sea—­a search was being made in the black night, alas, how hopelessly!  The light hovered about for many, many minutes, revealed to him now here, now there, searching in vain to find him, as wave after wave raised him time and again on its irresistible summit.  The men in the boat were doing their best, no doubt; but what chance of finding any one on a dark night like that, in an angry sea, and with no clue to guide them toward the two struggling castaways?  Current and wind had things all their own way.  As a matter of fact, the light never came near the castaways at all; and after half an hour’s ineffectual search, which seemed to Felix a whole long lifetime, it returned slowly toward the steamer from which it came—­and left those two alone on the dark Pacific.

“There wasn’t a chance of picking ’em up,” the captain said, with philosophic calm, as the men clambered on board again, and the Australasian got under way once more for the port of Honolulu.  “I knew there wasn’t a chance; but in common humanity one was bound to make some show of trying to save ’em.  He was a brave fellow to go after her, though it was no good of course.  He couldn’t even find her, at night, and with such a sea as that running.”

And even as he spoke, Felix Thurstan, rising once more on the crest of a much smaller billow—­for somehow the waves were getting incredibly smaller as he drifted on to leeward—­felt his heart sink within him as he observed to his dismay that the Australasian must be steaming ahead once more, by the movement of her lights, and that they two were indeed abandoned to their fate on the open surface of that vast and trackless ocean.