"I'll get up some blankets and tuck you into this corner, and then I'll go and get some and some fresh water. Our raft's blown ashore and the other one also. I shall have to wade."
He made her comfortable in the corner, got his buckets and a stick, and dropped over the side.
She lay watching him as he waded ashore, saw him stop for a moment to examine the raft, and then, with a wave of the hand, he set off for the pools, swinging his buckets jauntily.
Were there many such men in the world, she wondered, and why had she never met any of them before? The men she had met were so very different. They were as a rule so elusive and evasive that you never quite knew what they were driving at ... except that it was certain to be for their own satisfaction and advantage ... and that unless you were always on your guard it was likely to turn out ill for you ... a queer world, and life was a puzzle past comprehending.....
She was glad to be out of it ... even on this sandbank.... Life was sweeter here, and certainly very much simpler.... Well, perhaps a little too severely simple in some respects.... But one could not have everything.... Thank God, again, that it was this man who was with her and not that other!...
She saw him coming at last with his full buckets, and presently made out a couple of rabbits hanging round his neck.
"The birds are having a great time out yonder," he called to her. "Lots of new wreckage, I expect, and they've been fasting. I must get across as soon as I can and see if the storm has brought anything for us. One never knows,"—he had come alongside, and lifted the buckets and tossed the rabbits on to the deck. "I'll fasten the raft to the chain there"—and he hauled himself along on it to the bows.
She heard a smothered exclamation, and presently he climbed up and came along the deck with something in his hand.
"What is it?" she asked.
"What do you make of that?" and he handed her the link of the rusty cable which had given way and let them drift ashore.