"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."