"I do know;—oh, God,—I do."
He caught up his oars then.
He rowed with all his strength. The whole thing was so strange to him. Her going. Their being out on the water. The rowing.
The waves rose in tremendous black swells all about them. The rain and the spray drenched them. The wind rocked the small boat. The whistling wail of it; the lowering cloud sprawled pitchy sky.
He pulled in silence until they came to the nets.
She stood up in the boat and called; again and again her voice rose into the wind.
"Sit down!" He told her.
A distant shout answered her.
He bent to his oars then till he came to the cluster of smacks on the other side of the nets.
"Pa—;" she cried.