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.
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