Three days of life-renewing, hope-burgeoning weather had followed that silent dawn—days of placid seas and gentle breezes; and nights alight with stars and a growing moon. The island had been motionless. It might have been one of the Blessed Isles in a world where life was everlasting.  
Isle of Hope Emily had christened the bit of floating earth, nor could she have told why optimism reigned in her heart and soul. She was unaware that she was reflecting only what the manner of Paul Lavelle gave forth. His every act and word was a reassurance of faith and the motif of her ever-increasing wonder of him.
 
Yet it was but a mask of service which Lavelle had determined to wear for this woman's sake. He had put it on in that daybreak when he had met her coming toward him and heard her calling:
 
"We still live, captain."
 
There had welled in his heart at that moment the gentle Stevenson's prayer for grace—a prayer which had sustained Lavelle often in peril and sorrow—and it poured from his lips to find an echo in the woman's, for she, too, knew it:
 
"'Grant that we here before Thee may be set free from the fear of vicissitude and the fear of death, may finish what remains before us of our course without dishonor to ourselves or hurt to others, and, when the day comes, may die in peace. Deliver us from fear and favor; from mean hopes and cheap pleasures. Have mercy on each in his deficiency: let him not be cast down; support the stumbling on the way, and give at last rest to the weary.'"
 
To help this woman's spirit to be unafraid was all that was left for him to do for her. It was the most he would ever be able to do for her. Of this Lavelle felt certain. He knew the sea too well to deceive himself with a false hope that its kind mood would continue long. But while life lasted it was his purpose to live it fearlessly and as if years still measured the span and not swift minutes.
 
Under his hand the discipline of shipboard prevailed. There was not a moment, by day or night, when a lookout for sign of succoring sail or light went unkept. With Chang, his right hand, Lavelle divided the night watches, not trusting Rowgowskii. Even Emily, according to her wish, helped in the tasks of preparing the food and tending the fire by day. An out-of-doors woman by tradition and inclination, a powerful rider and swimmer, the pride which she had always taken in her physical well-being was standing her in good stead now.
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