The knife was sharp, and my task was over in less than a minute. I dropped it into the sea, and leaned back breathless. The wind was coming.
"Lumley!" I faltered, "will you come to me? I am afraid!"
He turned round with a quick loving word. At that moment the catastrophe happened. A sudden gust of wind filled out the sail. There was a crash as it parted from the mast, a confused mass of canvass and limp rope. The whole of the strain for a moment was upon the topmost portion of the mast, and the result was inevitable. It snapped short, and the whole tangled heap fell down, half in the bottom of the boat, half in the sea.
We heeled right over, and it seemed as if we must be capsized. But my lover had presence of mind, and a strong desire to live. He leaned heavily on the other side of the boat, and whipping a large sailor's knife from his pocket, cut away the whole of the wreckage from the stump of the mast with a few lightning-like strokes. It fell away overboard at once, and though we shipped a lot of water, the boat righted itself again. While it was yet trembling with the shock he leaned across to me, pale, but with no fear in his set face or his clear, resolute tone.
"Courage, Margharita! The oars! Quick, dear!"
Then for the first time my heart smote me for what I had done; for the passionate desire of life was alight in his eyes. What right had I to make him share my fate? My deep joy was suddenly numbed. I was a murderess!
I handed him the remaining one, and pretended to feel about in the bottom of the boat. In that moment I recovered myself.
"There is only one here," I announced calmly.
"Impossible!" he cried. "I saw the pair laid out myself."
He dropped on his knee and felt anxiously around. Then he struck a match; with the same result. The oar was gone.