She had jumped out and was hurrying back, scrambling across the rocks toward the dark, struggling figure that even as he watched was once more engulfed in the surf.
Letting go the lines, Jack sprang toward the stern of the sloop.
But just then another giant blow came, struck the sail like a great fist of air, and sent the boom slashing at the back of his head.
His last recollection was being toppled out onto the rocks and wondering how he could cling to them while unconscious.
VII
The little cove was once again as quiet as time's heart. Once again the Annie O. was a sloop embedded in a mirror. Once again the rocks were warm underfoot.
Jack Barr lifted his fiercely aching head and looked at the distant line of the mainland, as tiny and yet as clear as something viewed through the wrong end of a telescope. He was very tired. Searching the island, in his present shaky condition, had taken all the strength out of him.
He looked at the peacefully rippling sea outside the cove and thought of what a churning pot it had been during the storm. He thought wonderingly of his rescue—a man wedged unconscious between two rock teeth; kept somehow from being washed away by the merest chance.
He thought of Mrs. Kesserich sitting alone in her house, scanning the newspapers that had nothing to tell.