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Parrish, Randall, 1858-1923

"Gordon Craig Soldier of Fortune"

"
With a struggle, I made it, rolling over the low gunwale, the water
draining from me into a pool at the bottom, the slight chill of the
night air making me shiver. It was not raining now, although there was
a vapory mist in the atmosphere, almost a drizzle. I sat up, and
touched her hand where it grasped the oar.
"You are a fine brave girl," I said sincerely, unable to restrain my
admiration.
She dropped her head, and began to sob.
"Oh, no, no! I am not," she replied, tremblingly. "I am such a
coward. You cannot know the terror I have felt."
"That is the test of courage; you faced peril realizing all you risked.
Not one in a thousand would have done as well."
"You--you really think so?" and she glanced toward me, "or are you
merely seeking to encourage me? But you are soaking wet, and must be
cold."
"A little damp--yes," and I laughed, stretching my limbs, "but there is
plenty to do now to keep me warm. Where is the _Sea Gull_? I hardly
know in which direction to look."
She pointed over the port bow, and, with an effort, I managed to make
out, through the misty gloom, a faint shadow against the sky. Not a
light was visible, nor could I decipher any real outline of the vessel.
Even as I stared in uncertainty this dim spectral shade vanished,
swallowed up in the night.


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