“They should follow with the boat,” Ensleigh’s voice broke in on Jack’s. “There’s a beastly current cuts round the headland.” “She is safe enough,” said I. “Her fairy godmother was a mermaid--or a siren.” Nevertheless, when we reached the waiting launch, Nanette’s daring had attracted attention. I could not see her mother; but there was a buzz of excited conversation all around, and the brown-skinned professional was making urgent signals to the boatmen. “She’s right on our course!” cried Jack. “Come on! Hurry up!” “Don’t worry,” I implored him, tumbling into the launch. “But she’ll never be able to swim it!” said Ensleigh, jumping in behind me. “Hullo! What’s this!” He had stumbled over a bulky parcel wrapped up in newspaper. I thought I recognized the _Times_. “Please leave alone, sir!” cried the Portuguese in charge. “I aska tella you no touch!” “Oh!” Ensleigh stared at him suspiciously, and then we were off. “Pick her up, Decies!” came a shout from someone on shore. “She’s overdone it this morning. She can never get back!” The purr of the motor made it difficult to hear the other shouts that followed us. But excitement was growing intense, and I looked out ahead uneasily. I could not see Nanette. “Can you see her, Decies?” said Jack hoarsely. “No.” “There she is!” The cry came from Ensleigh, and: “Where?” Jack and I yelled together. Ignoring us: “Port, easy!” he directed the man at the wheel. “Now--as she is! Hold it!” We raced, all out, in the direction of the rash swimmer. A sort of anger claimed me. This crazy performance was a display of girlish pique. I felt particularly sorry for Jack Kelton. He was hanging over the bow in a perfect anguish of terrified expectation. Presently: “She’s still swimming strongly!” he gasped; then, almost immediately: “My God!” “What?” Ensleigh and I were peering ahead over Jack’s shoulder. “She’s gone down!” Over the noise of the motor, over the sound of the sea, it reached us dimly--a prolonged, horrified cry from the watchers on shore. What happened during the next few minutes I am unable to record. I think Jack was fighting with the boatman because he couldn’t get another amp. out of his engine. Ensleigh, I remember, looked dishevelled for the first time in my experience of him. I was drenched with perspiration--and it was not wholly due to the heat of the sun. Then, dead ahead, not six lengths away, a white arm was thrown up out of the sea. “Stop her!” I yelled. Hot on the words came a splash--and Jack was in. He was fully dressed, except that he had shed his college jacket. He reached Nanette as she came up for the second time. “Reverse! Starboard!” We described an untidy crescent; and then--Nanette was being hauled aboard. She sank down on the cushions as Jack came clambering over looking like a half-drowned Airedale. “Nanette!” he panted, and dropped on his knees before her. She opened starry eyes, and looked at him. “Yes?” she said.