Then
he knew that this dear hand that he had captured was working him woe,
for by it he was drawn beneath the water.
Even then he did not let go, but, still holding the hand, struck out to
regain the surface in one of those wild struggles to which inexpert
swimmers resort when they feel the deep receiving them into itself.
It would have been better for him if he had let go, for in that vehement
struggle he felt the evidence of the sea-maid's power. He
remembered--his last thought as he lost consciousness--that with the
fishy nature is sometimes given the power to stun an enemy by an
electric shock. Some shock came upon him with force, as if some cold
metal had struck him on the head. As his brain grew dull he heard the
water gurgling over him.
How long he remained stunned he did not know. He felt the water rushing
about his head again; he felt that he had been drowned, and he knew,
too--in that foolish way in which the half-awakened brain knows the
supposed certainties of dreams--that the white hand he had essayed to
hold had grasped his beard firmly under his chin, and that thus holding
his head above the surface of the water, she was towing him away to
unknown regions.
Then he seemed to know nothing again; and again he opened his eyes, to
find himself lying on a beach in the moonlight, and the sea-maid's face
was bending over his.
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