Bohannan reddened, feeling that the chief's silence had been another rebuff.

And on, on drifted _Nissr_, askew, up-canted, with the pitiless sunlight of approaching evening in every detail revealing--as it slanted in, almost level, over the far-heaving infinitudes of the Atlantic--the ravages wrought by flame.
Bohannan could not long be silent.

The exuberance of his nature burst forth with a half-defiant: "If _I_ were in charge, which I'm not, I'd stop those damned helicopters, let her down, turn what power we've got into the remaining propellers, and taxi ashore!" "And probably sink, or break up in the surf, on the beach, there!" curtly rejoined the Master.

"Ah! _What_ ?" His binoculars checked their sweep along the coast, which in its absolute barrenness looked a place of death for whatever might have life there.
"You see something, _mon capitaine ?_" asked Leclair, blowing smoke from his cigarette.

"Allow me also to look! Where is it ?" "Just to north of that gash--that wady, or gully, making down to the beach.