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.
CHAPTER XII
No pleasure-boats or craft of any sort put out from Silverstrand that afternoon. The wind eventually blew away the clouds and revealed a foaming, sunlit sea. But the waves were immense at high tide, and the fishermen muttered among themselves and stared darkly out over the mighty breakers.