"Good Lord!" ejaculated the sailor, unprepared for this. "Sinking?"
"Get on, damn you!"
The boat gathered speed. They could see the other clearly now; she was down by the stern, half submerged.
The racing boat bore down upon her. "Easy!" Amberley ordered, and began to put the wheel over to come alongside. "Stop!"
The noise of the engine died, the racer glided on gently for a few feet and rocked beside the foundered boat.
The well was half full of water; Amberley had thrown his torch down to have both hands free, but the moonlight showed him all he wanted to see. Up against the side of the boat a white face was lifted just clear of the water, a scarf tied round the lower half of it.
"My Gawd in 'eaven!" gasped the sailor. "It's a woman!"
Amberley leaned over and grasped Shirley. She was strangely heavy; bound and weighted, he guessed. He said: "It's all right, my poor child, it's all right, Shirley," and shot over his shoulder: "A knife, quickly!"
The sailor, hanging on to the boat-hook with one hand, fished a clasp-knife out of his pocket and held it out. Amberley opened it and bent over the side, feeling under the water in the well of the other boat. His hand touched something hard about Shirley's waist; he could feel the links of an iron chain and the cord that tied them, and slashed through. In another moment he had her in his arms and had laid her down in the well of his own boat. She was deathly pale, but her eyes were wide open, fixed almost incredulously on his face. Her wrists and ankles were lashed together tightly; long shudders were running through her.
Amberley undid the scarf and took the gag out of her mouth; then he pulled the flask out of his hip pocket and put it to her blue lips, holding her against his shoulder. "Drink it, Shirley! Yes, I'll undo you, but drink this first. Good girl! - Take her in to shore as quick as you can, you - what's-your-name?"