"In a moment—-yes; as soon as I get my breath back. Did you notice any alarm on board the Sea Gull?"
She shaded her eyes with one hand, holding the heavy oar against her body, and looked ahead.
"No; I was not thinking about that—only of your danger, and my awful position. I was never so frightened before."
"Can you still see the vessel?"
"Just a shadow against the sky. I—I think she is moving straight ahead."
"Then we have not been missed, nor the mate. Doubtless he was going below for his supper. Now lean well over to port—yes, the left—and balance the boat; I am going to climb in."
With a struggle, I made it, rolling over the low gunwale, the water draining from me into a pool at the bottom, the slight chill of the night air making me shiver. It was not raining now, although there was a vapory mist in the atmosphere, almost a drizzle. I sat up, and touched her hand where it grasped the oar.
"You are a fine brave girl," I said sincerely, unable to restrain my admiration.
She dropped her head, and began to sob.
"Oh, no, no! I am not," she replied, tremblingly. "I am such a coward. You cannot know the terror I have felt."