CHAPTER V.
WHITE BALDWIN AND HIS "SEA BEE." The hour that preceded the coming of that heaven-sent schooner was the blackest of Cabot Grant's life, and as he sat with bowed head on the wet platform of his tossing raft he was utterly hopeless.

He believed that he should never again hear a human voice nor tread the blessed land--yes, everything was ended for him, or very nearly so, and whatever record he had made in life must now stand without addition or correction.

His thoughts went back as far as he could remember anything, and every act of his life was clearly recalled.

How mean some of them now appeared; how thoughtless, indifferent, or selfish he had been in others.

Latterly how he had been filled with a sense of his own importance, how he had worked and schemed for a little popularity, and now who would regret him, or give his memory more than a passing thought?
Thorpe Walling would say: "Served him right for throwing me over, as he did," and others would agree with him.