“There is no time for you and I to settle our hate and quarrel now,” I remarked. “We will need all our strength if we would save her.”
“Yes, yes,” he assented eagerly.
So together we labored, he and I; as deadly enemies as ever two men could be, striving in harmony to save the life of a woman, who, hitherto, had brought us both little more than hate. And yet we loved her, both of us. I, perforce, because I could do no less.
First we placed her where the waves could reach her as little as possible, for she was still as one dead. I passed a rope around the mast, and fastened one end about Lucille’s waist. And my hands trembled strangely as I touched her cold hand.
Quivers of the boat warned us that she would hold together but a brief spell now, and we worked with feverish haste, neither speaking a word.
At length the few boards we could tear loose were bound together, and on them we must make the attempt to get Lucille to shore.
I paused to look at her, and the love grew in my heart. I gazed up and found Sir George at my side. He, too, looked down on her. Then we two glanced at each other, and the love in our eyes turned to hate.
“Quick!” I said. “There is no time to wait.”
We had arranged the raft so that one of us could swim ahead and drag it by a rope, while the other could swim behind and push. A box lashed to the centre made a support for Lucille. We placed her on the planks, her shoulders against the box, so that her head would be above the waves. Then we made ready for our battle with the sea.
Sir George unbuckled his sword, and lashed it to the raft.