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Parrish, Randall, 1858-1923

"Gordon Craig Soldier of Fortune"

"
She obeyed me, but it was mechanical, her eyes still fixed upon the
water.
"Be quick now," I said sternly, and my hand pressed her shoulder.
"Your life depends on your promptness."
I loosened the ropes, permitting them to run slowly through the blocks.
There was no creaking, and I rejoiced at the ease with which I
sustained the weight, as the boat descended. Slowly it sank below into
the darkness, until it was merely a black, shapeless shadow outlined
against the water. I felt the strain on my arms as the swell gripped
its keel; then the stern swung free, and I knew she was scrambling
forward, knife in hand, for the other rope. Almost before the boat
could swing about, the second stay dangled, and all my straining eyes
could perceive was a dark, indefinite shadow drifting out of sight
astern. Without uttering a sound, or wasting a second, I dived from
the rail. I came up to the surface, swishing the water from my eyes.
Five fathoms away was the shapeless outline of the boat, tossing
helplessly on the swell, the girl still in the bow, her very attitude
bespeaking terror.
"It's all right," I called, loud enough for her to hear. "Throw out an
oar on the left, and hold her. I 'll be there in a minute."
She heard me and understood, for with one sob of relief plainly audible
in the still night, she shipped the oar.


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