_That_ was a lightning forward swoop of _Messenger_ on the back of a wave, followed by a check as she met the force of a curling crest; the dinghy checked also--in the trough behind. Then as the yawl leaped again the tow-rope tightened with a jar that sent out a perfect Catherine wheel of dazzling spray. "Here, just a moment," said Adrian, surrendering the tiller to his sister; "I’d better just give it a----" "Don’t--Addie, _don’t_!" cried Christobel, with a sudden sense of desperation--it was the breaking-point of nerves, only she did not realize it. Adrian jumped up on the counter, and stooping above the rail got hold of the tow-rope. At that instant, a long black wave-head swept after them out of the dark, carrying the dinghy on its crest. The little boat nearly came on board, striking hard with her sharp bows; there was a sudden lift of the counter as the wave roared under their keel; Adrian lurched, fell over and rolled. Christobel let go the tiller, sprang up with a shriek so piercing that she did not recognize her own voice, and flung her whole weight on Adrian’s legs. It steadied him for the instant, and getting his balance he flung an arm round the mizzen, and directly after righted himself. But _Messenger_ had got her head! With the tiller loose she was free. There was one appalling moment when she drove broadside on, heeling over almost at right angles. The water poured along the leeward rail, and she was almost buried to the mast in seething foam. It streamed into the companion--down to the saloon--everywhere. The noise was perfectly indescribable, one riot of roar, rattle, and storm. Then the white yawl finished her mad dash for freedom and suddenly righted on a level keel, gasping, as it were, while other sounds were lost in the rush of water pouring away through the scuppers. Christobel did nothing. She was shaking from head to foot and sobbing in a distracted manner. Adrian, utterly amazed, patted her back, the while he seized the kicking tiller. "Hullo, old lady--what’s up? Get a holt on it. Why--nothing’s happened, only this beastly row." "Oh, Addie--Addie--Addie!" choked poor Crow, "if you’d--gone. I thought--I thought----" "No harm done. Miss is as good as a mile any day," shouted Adrian cheerfully above the din. "I say, Crow, look! If it isn’t Miss Hun, come to inquire after our health!" The Countess had pushed open one door, and was standing on the step looking about--evidently she could see nothing, her eyes being dazzled by the lamp within. "Everything is falling down," she said in her deliberate voice. "What is the matter?" "Nothing at all," answered Adrian. "My sister and I are playing hockey to warm ourselves." "That is an untruth. Do you suppose I should believe it?" retorted the girl. "Not at all. Why should you?" Adrian’s tone was the essence of courtesy. "Why do you say so then?"