“Lucy!” he gasped, running to her. She caught at his arm to steady herself.
“What is the matter?” he cried. She turned her face away, making not a sound.
For a minute or so he stood staring at her. Then she whispered, “Quick! let us go from here!”
And with a sudden movement of her hands, she swept her hair back from her forehead, and straightened her clothing, and started to the door, leaning upon her friend.
They went up to the deck, where the officer was still standing in perplexity.
“Mrs. Taylor wishes to go ashore,” said Montague. “Will you get us a boat?”
“The launch will be back in a few minutes, sir—” the man began.
“We wish to go at once,” said Montague. “Will you let us have one of those rowboats? Otherwise I shall hail that tug.”
The man hesitated but a moment. Montague's voice was determined, and so he turned and gave orders to lower a small boat.
In the meantime, Lucy stood, breathing heavily, and gazing about her nervously. When at last they had left the yacht, he heard her sigh with relief.