Half-an-hour later they were out on the open sea beyond the harbour in a
cockleshell even frailer than Quiller's little craft which they had not
been able to secure.
The sea was very quiet, only broken by an occasional long swell that
drove them southward like driftwood. Merefleet, who had been persuaded
to quit the harbour against his better judgment, was not greatly
disturbed by this fact. He did not anticipate any difficulty in
returning. A little extra labour was the worst he expected, for he knew
that a southward course would bring him into no awkward currents. Away to
the eastward he was aware of treacherous streams and shoals. But he had
no intention of going in that direction, and Mab, who steered, knew the
water well.
There was no sun, a circumstance which Mab deplored, but for which
Merefleet was profoundly grateful.
"You're not nearly so lazy as you used to be," she said to him
approvingly, as he rested his oars after a long pull.
"No," said Merefleet. "I am beginning to see the error of my ways."
"I'm real glad to hear you say so," she said heartily. "And I want to
tell you, Big Bear--that as I'm never going to New York again, I've
decided to be an Englishwoman. And you've got to help me."
Merefleet looked at her with undisguised appreciation, but he shook
his head at her words. She was marvellous; she was inimitable; she was
unique. She would never, never be English. His gesture said as much.
But she was not discouraged.
"I guess I'll try, anyhow," she said with brisk determination. "You don't
like American women, Mr. Merefleet."
"Depends," said Merefleet.
And she laughed gaily.
They were drifting in long sweeps towards the south. Imperceptibly also
the distance was widening between the boat and the shore. The wind was
veering to the west.
"My! Look at that oar!" Mab suddenly exclaimed.
Merefleet started at the note of dismay in her tone. He had shipped his
oars. They were the only ones that had been provided. He glanced hastily
at the oar Mab indicated. It had been broken and roughly spliced
together. The wood that had been used for the splicing was rotten, and
the friction in the rowlocks had almost worn it through. Merefleet
examined it in silence.
The girl's voice, high, with a quiver in it that might have stood for
either laughter or consternation, broke in on him.
"Well," she said, "I guess we're in the suds this time, Big Bear; and no
mistake about it."
Merefleet glanced at her helplessly. He did not think she realised the
gravity of the situation, but something in the little smile that twitched
her lips undeceived him.
"The sea was full of boats a little while ago," he said. "They have
probably gone in for the lunch hour. But they will be out again
presently. We shall have to drift about for a while and then run up
a distress signal. It will be all right."
She nodded to him and laughed.
"Splendid, Big Bear! You talk like an oracle. I guess we'll run up my red
parasol on the end of an oar for a danger sign. Bert could see that from
the terrace." She glanced shorewards as she spoke, and he saw her face
change momentarily. "Why," she said quickly, "I thought we were close
in. What's happened?"
Merefleet looked round with sullen perception of a difficult situation.
"The wind is blowing off shore," he explained. "It was north when we
started. But it has gone round to the west. It will be all right, you
know. We can't drift very far in an hour."
But he did not speak with conviction. The sea tumbled all around them,
a mighty grey waste. And the shore seemed very far away. A dismal outlook
in truth. Moreover it was beginning to rain.
Mab sheltered herself under her sunshade and began to laugh. "It's just
skittles to what it might be," she said consolingly.
But Merefleet did not respond. He knew that the wind was rising with
every second, and already the little boat tipped and tossed with perilous
buoyancy.
Mab still held the rudder-lines. She sat in the stern, a serene and
smiling vision, while Merefleet toiled with one oar to counteract the
growing strength of the off-shore wind. But she very soon put down her
sunshade, and he saw that she must speedily be drenched to the skin. For
the rain was heavy, drifting over the water in thick, grey gusts. They
were being driven steadily eastwards out to sea.
"I don't think my steering makes much difference, Big Bear," she said,
after a long silence.
"No," said Merefleet. "It would take all the strength of two rowers to
make headway against this wind."
He shipped his oar with the words and began to take off his coat. Mab
watched him with some wonder. He was seated on the thwart nearest to
her. He stooped forward at length very cautiously and, taking the
rudder-lines from her, made them fast.
"Now get into this!" he said. "Mind you don't upset the boat!"
She stared at him for one speechless second. Then:
"No, I won't, Big Bear," she declared emphatically. "Put it on again at
once! Do you suppose I'll sit here in your coat while you shiver in
nothing but flannels?"
"Do as I say!" said Merefleet, with a grim hardening of the jaw.
And quite meekly she obeyed. There was something about him that inspired
her with awe at that moment. She felt as if she had run against some
obstacle in the dark.
The rain began to beat down in great, shifting clouds. The sea grew
higher at every moment. Flecks of white gleamed here and there on all
sides. The boat was dancing like a cork.
Mab sat in growing terror with her eyes on the roaring turmoil. The
minutes crawled by like hours. At length she turned to look shorewards
for the boats. A driving, blinding mist of rain beat into her face. She
saw naught besides. And suddenly her courage failed her. "Big Bear!"
she cried wildly. "What shall we do? I'm so frightened."
He heard her through the storm. He was still sitting on the middle thwart
facing her. He moved, bending towards her.
"Come to me here!" he said. "It will be safer."
She crept to his outstretched arm with a sense of going into refuge.
Merefleet helped her over the thwart. There was a torn piece of sailcloth
in the bottom of the boat. He drew her down on to it and turned round
himself so that his back was towards the storm. He was thus able to
shelter her in some measure from the full fury of the blast.
Mab shrank against him, terrified and quivering.
"It looks so angry," she said.
"Don't be afraid!" said Merefleet.
And he put his arms about her and held her close to him as if she had
been a little child afraid of the dark.