No, to her death could not have been as horrible as it might have been, but to him it was most horrible that she should have died so quietly, without a word. Perhaps she had meant to call out and had been too weak--he tried to remember dizzily if he had heard a sound in the night--she must have made some sort of sound. He could remember nothing. He looked back. Sebastian was staring at them fixedly from the helm. His hand lay on the tiller as if he had forgotten it--a little muscle twitched in his cheek--his eyes were fey. Andrew thought, oddly, that he looked much as a man looks who has just got a sharp, excruciating blow in the groin--his mouth had the same sick stiffness. He laid Caterina down. Then, bending over her, he looked ahead and felt a hoarse, startled cry tear out of his throat. "Rocks!" he yelled. "Sebastian! We're going on the rocks!" and fell in the stained water in the bottom of the boat as the boat jerked and the sail slatted over. There was a firm little jar beneath him like a sharp push from a heavy hand--a ripping sound--then catastrophe had passed, and they were going on again. "Get out farther--from coast--" he said weakly, scrambling up. He looked back. Another moment and they would have struck that jagged line of black stumps full on. As it was they had just scraped across the edge where the water simmered uneasily like a bubbling pot. They had just escaped. His feet were wetter than they had been. He stared down. A little spring of water was pumping up in the bottom, diluting the bloody puddles with fresh clear green. That slight firm push had been enough to ruin them. The boat was filling. "Have to beach her, Sebas'," he said in a lifeless voice. "We're sinking." Sebastian did not seem to hear: he was still staring ahead, with those blind, busy eyes, as if he were intent on counting every wave in the sea. "Christ," said Andrew, flatly, and went back to shake him alive. They beached the boat just in time. Twenty yards more to go or a rougher sea and they could not have done it. As it was, when a slow, huge roller took her at last and sludged her nose in the sand, she hesitated in its grip like a flogged, unwieldy mare, and the sea nearly took her and Caterina back again before they could haul up into safety. When they had done so, they lifted out Caterina's body between them and carried it up on the beach. They had landed in a little cove. The sand was very clean and white--their footsteps dinted it sharply. It was morning now--the dew had vanished--the world was a glittering toy of silver and blue enamel. "We must bury her," said Sebastian dully. "We cannot take her with us to consecrated ground." The muscle throbbed in his cheek. It was the first time he had spoken. "I wish there were a priest," he said, looking about. "We must put up a cross." His mouth jerked.