stopped suddenly and utterly," he said gravely.
"But it will come upon us from another quarter, and it will bring the
sea with it." He raised her, and held her with his arm. "Trust yourself
to me when it comes," he said gently. "If I can save you, I will."
There was no time for more. Above them broke a new and more terrible
storm. A ball of fire shot from the cloud into the sea; it was followed
by a crash that seemed to shake the earth. A cataract of rain descended.
From the northeast there swooped upon them a wind to which the gale of
an hour before seemed a zephyr. It drove the boat before it as if she
had been the bird from which she took her name. It piled wave on wave
until the sea ran in mountains. Athwart the storm came a dull booming
roar, and above the great hills of water appeared a long ridge crested
with white.
"It is coming," said Landless.
Patricia looked up at him with great, despairing, courageous eyes. "I
have caused your death," she said. "Forgive me."
There came a vivid flash, and a loud scream from Darkeih. "De lan'! de
bressed, bressed, lan'!"
Landless wheeled. Silhouetted against the lit sky he saw a fringe of
pines, and below it a low, shelving shore where the waves were breaking
in foam and thunder. The Bluebird, driven by the wind, was hurrying
towards it in mad bounds. The great wave overtook her, bore her onward
with it, and sunk her within fifty feet of the shore.
Ten minutes later Landless, breathless and exhausted, staggered from out
the hell of pounding waves and blinding, stinging spray on to the shore.
Unlocking Patricia's arms from about his neck, he laid her gently down
upon the sand and turned to look for the other occupants of the hapless
Bluebird. They were close behind him. In a few minutes the two men,
battling against wind and rain, had borne the women out of reach of the
waves, and had placed them in the shelter of a low bank of sand. As
Landless set his burden down he said reverently, "I thank God, madam."
"And I thank God," she answered, in the same tone.
He tried to shield her from the wind with his body. "It is frightful,"
he said, "that you should be exposed to such a night. I pray God that
you take no harm."
"Would it not be more sheltered higher up the shore, under those trees?"
"Perhaps, but I fear to risk you there with the lightning so near.
Later, when the storm subsides, we will try it."
He seated himself so as to screen her as much as possible
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