“Four-point landing.” She laughed in spite of the seriousness of the situation, freeing herself from her parachute harness.
Rearing up on her elbows, she looked for the plane.
“Gone!” she cried in dismay.
Just then she saw a hand go up. Silent Storm was doing his best.
Throwing herself flat on the raft and using her hands for paddles, she threw all her strength into an effort to reach him.
Even so, weakened by his efforts and the pain his back gave him, he had gone down once before she reached him.
A brief struggle followed, and then he lay on the raft and stared up at the sky.
“You—you shouldn’t have done it.” He talked with difficulty. “I’m really not worth it. Shouldn’t have gone up. But flying somehow gets into your blood.”
“I know,” she replied quietly. “It’s all right. I wouldn’t have missed this for anything. Somehow I thought that parachuting was a good thing to know. Now I’m sure of it. You’ll be fine when you get your breath. Danny will send out a motorboat.”
They were both wet to the skin. That didn’t matter too much. There was a warm land breeze from the shore. Stripping off their sodden jackets, they allowed their thin cotton shirts to bag and flutter in the breeze.