"You must try. That's it; now just let me lift you—steady yourself with the tackle."
She peered back at me over the side of the boat, her hair shining with moisture.
"Now are you coming?"
"No; I shall have to remain here and lower the boat."
"But I don't know what to do."
"Listen, and I 'll tell you. Turn about and face the stern. Yes, that is the way I mean; keep your hand on that rope so as not to make a mistake. Now take this knife; don't drop it. The moment the boat touches the water—an instant before, if possible—cut the rope you have hold on. Then hurry forward and cut the other. You understand?"
"I—I think so; I am to cut this first and then the other."
"Yes; now don't fail. You see we are launching this boat above the screw. There is bound to be suction. If you cut as I say, you will drift off bow on to the course of the vessel, and will float free; otherwise the boat is likely to be swamped. You see what I mean?"
She nodded.
"The quicker you can get to that second rope," I added seriously, "the better your chances."