He retraced his steps through deepening twilight, and with each mile of his questing return there grew in him that something which had come to him out of death, and which he knew would never leave him.

And with this change the droning softness of the night itself seemed to whisper that the sea would not give up its dead.
Olaf and Sandy McCormick and Sandy's wife were in the cabin when he returned at midnight.

He was exhausted.

Seven months in the States had softened him, he explained.

He did not inquire how successful the others had been.