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Various

"The Best Short Stories of 1921 and the Yearbook of the American Short Story"

Every moment I expected would be our last.
Yet, as time wore on, I felt through the sampan's frantic floundering a
hand of guidance, a touch of mastery. Lee Fu steered, and she was still
in his control. A night to turn the hair gray, to shatter the mind.
"But we came through, and saw the dawn. A pale watery light little by
little crept into the east, disclosing a scene of terror beyond
description. The face of the sea was livid with flying yellow foam; the
torn sky hung closely over it like the fringe of a mighty waterfall. In
the midst of this churning cauldron our little craft seemed momently on
the point of disappearing, engulfed by the wrath of the elements.
"In the lull of the storm my glance encountered Wilbur; for a long while
I'd forgotten him entirely. He hung to the rail a little farther
forward, gazing across the maelstrom with a fixed, exhausted expression.
His face was haggard; the strain of the night had marked him with a
ruthless hand. As I watched him, his eye turned slowly in my direction;
he gave me an anxious look, then crawled along the rail to a place by my
side.
"'Nichols, we're lost!' I heard him cry in my ear. The voice was almost
plaintive; it suddenly made me angry, revived a few sparks of my own
courage.
"'What of it?' I cried harshly.


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