Not a streak that could be a boat's hull, not a speck that could be a sail.
The little cutter was alone upon the ocean.

Alone, with scarcely two days' provisions, nine hundred miles from land, and four hundred miles to leeward of the nearest sea-road.
Hazel, seeing his worst forebodings realized, sat down in moody, bitter, and boding silence.
Of the other men some raged and cursed.

Some wept aloud.
The lady, more patient, put her hands together and prayed to Him who made the sea and all that therein is.

Yet her case was the cruelest.

For she was by nature more timid than the men, yet she must share their desperate peril.