ed
beside me.

"Now," I said, "step on my knee, and I 'll help you over. Don't
hurry--only be quiet."

"How can I with this ridiculous thing on?"

"You must try. That's it; now just let me lift you--steady yourself
with the tackle."

She peered back at me over the side of the boat, her hair shining with
moisture.

"Now are you coming?"

"No; I shall have to remain here and lower the boat."

"But I don't know what to do."

"Listen, and I 'll tell you. Turn about and face the stern. Yes, that
is the way I mean; keep your hand on that rope so as not to make a
mistake. Now take this knife; don't drop it. The moment the boat
touches the water--an instant before, if possible--cut the rope you
have hold on. Then hurry forward and cut the other. You understand?"

"I--I think so; I am to cut this first and then the other."

"Yes; now don't fail. You see we are launching this boat above the
screw. There is bound to be suction. If you cut as I say, you will
drift off bow on to the course of the vessel, and will float free;
otherwise the boat is likely to be swamped. You see what I mean?"

She nodded.

"The quicker you can get to that second rope," I added seriously, "the
better your chances."

"Then I 'll get out of these oilskins," and she struggled out of them,
with every semblance of relief, tucking the bundle out of sight. "I
don't care if I get wet. But--but, what are you going to do?"

"Jump for it, as soon as you are fairly afloat. I 'll be aboard before
you know it. Are you ready?"

She was looking forward, and her hand gripped mine. Her failure to
answer, and the sudden pressure of fingers, was a warning of danger. I
glanced back across my shoulder. In front of the cabin stood a man
staring aft. His huge bulk, even in that darkness, told me it was
Herman.

CHAPTER XXXI

THE OPEN BOAT

Following the first impulse of this alarming discovery I pressed her
back into the boat, and crouched low myself behind the protection of
the flag locker. The fellow might not have seen us. How still it was;
only the swish of water astern, and the continuous patter of rain. The
pounding of my heart was like that of a trip hammer, as I listened
intently for any movement. For a long moment of suspense there was
none; then I heard his heavy step on the deck, as he came slowly
forward around the bulge of the cabin. The very manner of his advance
told me his uncertainty; something had occur