Nor did we possess nails.

More than one expedient was resorted to with bits of canvas, wooden pegs, or whatsoever else we could lay hands upon, but our efforts resulted each time in sickening failure.

At last, long before the sun had attained the zenith, the old preacher looked up, disappointment written on every line of his rough face, to say grimly: "We waste toil, friends; the boat floats no more for all our labors.
Nor do I deem it the will of the Lord we longer continue to wear ourselves out in vain effort to undo His work." He wiped the beads of perspiration from his low forehead, pushing his hand through his matted hair.
"Were it not for the woman," he added more cheerfully, "the accident would not be so bad either.

I am cramped by long boat service, and would welcome a stiff tramp to loosen out the joints of my legs." I glanced across uneasily at Madame, for we were all seated on the grass in the sunshine, but could perceive nothing except encouragement in the clear depths of her brave eyes.
"Fear nothing on my account," she said quietly, instantly reading my thoughts as if my face were an open book.

"I am strong, and shall not greatly mind the walking." "At least you are strong of heart," I returned gravely.