helplessness of death.

I stood as if paralysed for a few seconds, filled with a craven longing
to get back to the cosy cabin, shut the hatch, and wait till daylight
before approaching any nearer that still form, dreading what horrors an
examination might reveal. But more humane and reasonable thoughts soon
came; perhaps this poor drifting bit of humanity was not dead, but had
been sent my way in the dead of night to revive and shelter.

Feeling that I must act at once, or I might not act at all--or at least
till daybreak--I put a great restraint upon my feelings of repugnance,
caught up the lamp, stepped into the boat, and raised the drooping head
on to my arm.

As I did so, the hood-like covering which had concealed the face fell
back, and in a moment all my shrinking and horror vanished once for
all--swallowed up in pity, compassion, and amazement--for on my arm
rested the sweet face of a young and very pretty girl, marred only by
its pallor and a bad bruise on the right temple.

Even in the lamplight I could see she was a lady born and bred; her face
alone told me that, and the rich material of fur-lined cloak and hood
merely confirmed it.

Here was no horrible midnight visitor, then; but certainly what seemed
to me a great mystery--far more so than the dead body of labourer or
wherry-man floating down with the tide would have furnished.

A lady, insensible apparently from a blow on the forehead, floating
alone in an open boat at midnight, on a lonely tidal water, far from any
resort of the class to which she seemed to belong, and saved from long
hours of exposure--perhaps death--by the marvellous chance (if it could
be called so) of colliding with my yacht on the way to the open sea.

It was too great a puzzle to attempt to solve on the spur of the moment,
and I had first to apply myself to the evident duty of getting my fair
and mysterious visitor into my cabin, there to try to undo the effects
of whatever untoward accidents had befallen her.

It was no easy matter, single-handed and in darkness, except for the
hazy beam of light from the lamp on deck, to get her from the swinging,
lurching boat to the yacht. But, luckily for me, my burden was light and
slender, and I did it without mishap, I hardly know how, and then soon
had her in the little cabin, laid carefully upon my blankets and rugs,
with a pillow under her head.

I soon knew she was alive, for there was a distinct, though slight, rise
and fall