On it came, a dark and glossy
wall; and she knew that if it broke or caught her boat in the least
aslant, she must be either swamped or overset.
With a sound that was half a sob and half a prayer she grasped her
paddles and, still looking over her shoulder, gently moved the boat's
nose to face it.
A moment, and it rose above her, hissing death; another, and the boat
was caught high in air, tottered on the summit, and then with a
shiver shot swiftly down into the trough beyond--safe.
A second wave followed, and a third, but with less peril. She was
still tossed, but as she saw that mass of water hurled upon the
shore, and sweeping angrily but with broken force towards the
harbour, she knew that she could thank Heaven for her escape.
She pulled towards the creek. Already the air was clear; but as she
glanced again her eye missed something familiar. And then it struck
her that the old schooner had gone. At that instant, as if in
confirmation, a shattered board bumped against the boat's side.
She looked, and noticed that far and near the water was strewn with
such fragments.
She was pausing for a second to consider, when she caught sight of a
black object lying on the mud beside the shore, and with a short cry
fell to rowing with all her strength.
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