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Merefleet looked round with sullen perception of a difficult situation.

“The wind is blowing off shore,” he explained. “It was north when we started. But it has gone round to the west. It will be all right, you know. We can’t drift very far in an hour.”

But he did not speak with conviction. The sea tumbled all around them, a mighty grey waste. And the shore seemed very far away. A dismal outlook in truth. Moreover it was beginning to rain.

Mab sheltered herself under her sunshade and began to laugh. “It’s just skittles to what it might be,” she said consolingly.

But Merefleet did not respond. He knew that the wind was rising with every second, and already the little boat tipped and tossed with perilous buoyancy.

Mab still held the rudder-lines. She sat in the stern, a serene and smiling vision, while Merefleet toiled with one oar to counteract the growing strength of the off-shore wind. But she very soon put down her sunshade, and he saw that she must speedily be drenched to the skin. For the rain was heavy, drifting over the water in thick, grey gusts. They were being driven steadily eastwards out to sea.

“I don’t think my steering makes much difference, Big Bear,” she said, after a long silence.

“No,” said Merefleet. “It would take all the strength of two rowers to make headway against this wind.”

He shipped his oar with the words and began to take off his coat. Mab watched him with some wonder. He was seated on the thwart nearest to her. He stooped forward at length very cautiously and, taking the rudder-lines from her, made them fast.

“Now get into this!” he said. “Mind you don’t upset the boat!”

She stared at him for one speechless second. Then:

“No, I won’t, Big Bear,” she declared emphatically. “Put it on again at once! Do you suppose I’ll sit here in your coat while you shiver in nothing but flannels?”

“Do as I say!” said Merefleet, with a grim hardening of the jaw.

And quite meekly she obeyed. There was something about him that inspired her with awe at that moment. She felt as if she had run against some obstacle in the dark.

The rain began to beat down in great, shifting clouds. The sea grew higher at every moment. Flecks of white gleamed here and there on all sides. The boat was dancing like a cork.

Mab sat in growing terror with her eyes on the roaring turmoil. The minutes crawled by like hours. At length she turned to look shorewards for the boats. A driving, blinding mist of rain beat into her face. She saw naught besides. And suddenly her courage failed her. “Big Bear!” she cried wildly. “What shall we do? I’m so frightened.”

He heard her through the storm. He was still sitting on the middle thwart facing her. He moved, bending towards her.

“Come to me here!” he said. “It will be safer.”

She crept to his outstretched arm with a sense of going into refuge. Merefleet helped her over the thwart. There was a torn piece of sailcloth in the bottom of the boat. He drew her down on to it and turned round himself so that his back was towards the storm. He was thus able to shelter her in some measure from the full fury of the blast.

Mab shrank against him, terrified and quivering.

“It looks so angry,” she said.

“Don’t be afraid!” said Merefleet.

And he put his arms about her and held her close to him as if she had been a little child afraid of the dark.

CHAPTER XII

No pleasure-boats or craft of any sort put out from Silverstrand that afternoon. The wind eventually blew away the clouds and revealed a foaming, sunlit sea. But the waves were immense at high tide, and the fishermen muttered among themselves and stared darkly out over the mighty breakers.

It was known among them that a boat had put out to sea in the morning and had not returned before the rising of the gale. There were heavy hearts in Old Silverstrand that day. But to launch another boat to search for the missing one was out of the question. The great seas that came hurling into the little fishing-harbour were sufficient proof of that, even to the most inexperienced landsman.