He was hampered by his clothes and the weight of the woman, though from what he could tell she seemed small and light enough, and he was almost exhausted by the time he reached the bank.
There were several figures there now, and a lantern flashed a bright light into his face as willing hands dragged him ashore with his burden.
He fell heavily as soon as he reached the bank and lay prone for a moment, panting and exhausted.
Someone came to his help, but he waved him away.
"I'm all right—there's another out there—a man, I think."
286 Presently he struggled to his feet. The mist seemed to have risen a little, and above it a pale moon gleamed faintly down on to the silent river.
A small boat had been pushed off from the bank, and Chris could hear the splash of sculls through the mist.
A group of men were bending over the figure of a girl lying on the bank—the girl he had pulled from the water, Chris supposed. He drew a little nearer, and looked down at her as she lay there, the light of the lantern falling on her upturned face. Then he gave a great cry of agony and fell on his knees beside her, clutching her limp body with desperate hands for the girl was his own wife—Marie Celeste.