At first he
hoped to strike the shallows near it quickly, but found that the
current of the now receding tide was racing down the channel between the
island and the shore, out to the open sea. That little body was, no
doubt, being sucked outward in this rush of water--out to the wide water
where he could not find her. He told himself this when he found at what
a pace he was going, and knew that his best chance of ever returning was
to swim back again.
So he gave up seeking the little girl, and turned and swam as best he
could against the current, and recognised slowly that he was making no
headway, but by using all his strength could only hold his present place
abreast of the outer point of the island, and a good way from it. The
water was bitterly cold; it chilled him. He was far too much occupied in
fighting the current to think properly, but certain flashes of
intelligence came across his mind concerning the death he might be going
to die. His first clear thoughts were about a black object that was
coming near on the surface of the water. Then a shout reached him, and a
stronger swimmer than he pulled him to the island.
"Now, in the devil's name, Caius Simpson!" The deliverer was the man who
had come over the fence, and he shook himself as he spoke. His words
were an interrogation relating to all that had passed. He was a young
man, about the same age as Caius; the latter knew him well.
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