He had scarcely attempted to point it out to Natalie when it completely vanished.
Their effort to talk to each other ceased gradually; there was so little they could say in the presence of the growing peril surrounding them.
They had become the helpless sport of the waves, unable to act, think or plan, surrounded by horror, and aimlessly drifting toward the gloom of another night.

Wearied beyond all power of resistance, the girl sank lower and lower until she finally lay outstretched in utter abandonment.
West thrust his coat beneath her head, securely binding her to the raft by the rope's end, and sat beside her dejectedly, staring forth into the surrounding smother.

She did not speak, and finally her eyes closed.
Undoubtedly she slept, but he made every effort to remain awake and on watch, rubbing his heavy eyes, and struggling madly to overcome the drowsiness which assailed him.

How long he won, he will never know; the sun was in the west, a red ball of fire showing dimly through the cloud, and all about the same dancing expanse of sea, drear, and dead.

The raft rose and fell, rose and fell, so monotonously as to lull his consciousness imperceptibly; his head drooped forward, and with fingers still automatically gripped for support, he fell sound asleep also.
The raft drifted aimlessly on, the waves lapping its sides, and tossing it about as though in wanton play.