. Steve, carrying his master's luggage,
went in front, at a little distance. He didn't want to see them, still
less to hear them speak.

But they did not speak.

At the creek's bank Steve was ready with the boat.

Majendie took Maggie's hand and pressed it. She flung herself on him, and
he had to loose her hold by main force. She swayed, clutching at him to
steady herself. He heard Steve groan. He put his hand on her shoulder,
and kept it there a moment, till she stood firm. Her eyes, fixed on his,
struck tears from them, tears that cut their way like knives under his
eyelids.

Her body ceased swaying. He felt it grow rigid under his hand.

Then he went from her and stepped into the boat. She stood still, looking
after him, pressing one hand against her breast, as if to keep down its
heaving.

Steve pushed off from the bank, and rowed towards the creek's mouth. And
as he rowed, he turned his head over his right shoulder, away from the
shore where Maggie stood with her hand upon her breast.

Majendie did not look back. Neither he nor Steve saw that, as they neared
the mouth of the creek, Maggie had turned, and was going rapidly across
the field, towards the far side of the spit of land where the yacht lay
moored out of the current. As they had to round the point, her way by
land was shorter than theirs by water.

When they rounded the point they saw her standing on the low inner shore,
watching for them.

She stood on the bank, just above the belt of silt and sand that divided
it from the river. The two men turned for a moment, and watched her from
the yacht's deck. She waited till the big mainsail went up, and the
yacht's head swung round and pointed up stream. Then she began to run
fast along the shore, close to the river.

At that sight Majendie turned away and set his face toward the
Lincolnshire side.

He was startled by an oath from Steve and a growl from Steve's father at
the wheel. "Eh--the--little--!" At the same instant the yacht was pulled
suddenly inshore and her boom swung violently round.

Steve and the boatswain rushed to the ropes and began hauling down the
mainsail.

"What the devil are you doing there?" shouted Majendie. But no one
answered him.

When the sail came down he saw.

"My God," he cried, "she's going in."

Old Pearson, at the wheel, spat quietly over the yacht's side. "Not she,"
said old Pearson. "She's too much afraid o' cold water."

Maggie was down on the lower bank