The wind increased slightly with the dawn, buffeting the frail raft to which they clung desperately, and showering them with spray, while, as the light became stronger, they searched vainly for any sign of ship, or shadow of land.

Nothing appeared within range of vision to break the drear monotony of grey sea and sky.

Neither felt any desire to speak; they could only stare out silently across the desolation of waters, feeling their helplessness and peril.

This then was the morning they had struggled forward to--this green, grey monster, whose dripping jaws showered wet foam over them; this terrible nothingness which promised death.
Her head sank forward into her hands, as though she would thus shut out the whole weird picture, and West, aroused by the slight movement, glanced quickly aside.

The sight of her distress gave him instant mastery over his own depression.