The sun was burning with almost insufferable brightness, and the light blazed on the golden mirror of the water with blinding refracted rays. Crouching in the stern of the boat, William Jones shaded his eyes with both hands, and gazed intently on the object he had discovered far out to sea. Now and then he made a rapid motion to guide the girl in her rowing, but he did not speak a word.
Oh, how hot it was out there on the sun-scorched waves! For some time Matt pulled on in silence, but at last she could bear it no longer, and rested on her oars, with the warm perspiration streaming down her freekled cheeks.’
“Pull away, Matt,” said the man, not looking at her. “You ain’t tired, not you!”
With a long-drawn breath Matt drew in the oars, and swift as thought peeled off her jacket and threw off her hat, leaving her head exposed to the burning sun.
Now the silk gown she wore had evidently been used by its original owner as a festal raiment, for it had been cut low, and had short sleeves. So Matt’s shoulders and arms were perfectly bare, and very white they looked in contrast with her sun-freckled hands, her sunburnt face, and her warm brown neck. Her bust was as yet undeveloped, but her neck and shoulders were fine, and her arms beautifully moulded. Altogether, her friend the painter, could he have seen her just then, would have regarded her with increasing admiration.
Freed from the encumbrance of her jacket, she now pulled away with easy grace and skill. Further and further the boat receded from shore, till the promontory they had left was a couple of miles away. Suddenly William Jones made a sign to the girl to stop, and stood up in the boat to reconnoitre.
The object at which he had been gazing so long was now clearly visible. It consisted of something black, floating on a glassy stretch of water, and surrounded by fragments of loose scum or foam; it was to all appearance motionless, but was in reality drifting wearily shoreward on the flowing tide.
William Jones now evinced increasing excitement, and urged his companion to hurry quickly forward—which she did, putting out all her strength in a series of rapid and powerful strokes. Another quarter of an hour brought them to the spot where the object was floating. Trembling with eagerness, the man leant over the boat’s side with outstretched hands.
As he did so Matt turned her head away with a curious gesture of dread.
“What is it, William Jones?” she asked, not looking at him. “It isn’t—you know—one o’ them?”