Free Uncharted Seas by Dennis Wheatley

blue. Luvia knew that during the night the current must have carried them many miles still further south, but the sun’s rays seemed no less powerful. By ten o’clock they were taking advantage of every scrap of cover, and by midday they were panting where they sat, like so many dogs after a long, exciting chase.
    The only cheerful person in the company was Jean De Brissac. Having been unconscious or asleep practically the entire time since they had left the sinking
Gafelborg
, he had escaped thirty-six hours of acute anxiety which had already undermined the resistance of the others.
    When he awoke after his long sleep he felt very weak and his head pained him, but the gentle lapping of the waters against the boat’s timbers and a patch of bright blue sky that he could see through a gap in the tarpaulin tent where he lay informed him that the storm was over. Having escaped the tempest there seemed no reason to him why, given good weather, the boat should not carry them safely to land. He had no idea what had laid him out, but previous experience of wounds had taught him that complete inactivity, mental and physical, was the quickest road to recovery. As he was a casualty he could not assist his compaions in handling the boat, but he could help them by worrying neither himself nor them and by being as little bother as possible.
    Unity had constituted herself his nurse; a position which Synolda, decorative but incompetent, was incapable of filling. As De Brissac eased his position a little Unity saw that his quick brown eyes were open, and bent over him.
    ‘What happened?’ he murmured, economising words and effort.
    ‘You were hit on the head by an oar the night before last. Your scalp’s badly cut, but as you bled like a pig you may have escaped concussion. Now you’re awake I’d better do your head again.’
    With deft fingers she undid the bandage and began to bathe the wound. Fresh water could not be spared for the purpose, but Unity thought sea water even better on account of the healing properties of its salt. The treatment caused De Brissac to wince and make a feeble protest, but she smiled reassuringly.
    ‘Stinging you up a bit, eh? I’m afraid it’s bound to as long as the wound remains open. Still, it’s a clean, healthy sort of gash and it’s looking much better than it did yesterday. If you’re a good patient we’ll have you up and about again within a week.’She was determined to conceal the fact from him as long as possible that their water supply would be exhausted in another twenty-four hours. The horrors which might ensue did not bear contemplation, and were certainly not the thoughts to put into the head of a sick man.
    In consequence, after she had washed his face and made him as comfortable as she could he thanked her with a little compliment on her gentleness and drifted into a semi-doze happily ignorant of their true situation.
    The appearance of the party was going rapidly from bad to worse. None of the men had shaved now for two days and the heat had increased the growth of dirty-looking stubble on their cheeks and chins. Several also had angry red patches on their noses, foreheads, and necks, where the sun had caught them during their turns at look-out the day before.
    Having lost most of her hairpins Synolda had abandoned her attempts to keep her long hair up and, in an endeavour to make the best of a bad job, appeared that morning with it flowing down over her shoulders. She looked very attractive like that and well she knew it.
    To her surprise and indignation Luvia ordered her curtly to tie it up in a bun or conceal it under a handkerchief head-dress. He knew that all the men, and particularly the Negroes, would become abnormal once thirst and despair began to affect them seriously. The last thing he meant to have was anything like a display of Synolda’s golden tresses which might excite their lust when they became unbalanced.
    Grudgingly, with a sullen glance from her blue eyes,