n. The booze craving made me
jumpy and unreasonable. I decided I must have that pipe, no other pipe
would do. So I crossed to the side and felt around until I grasped the
boat's painter; and then I overhauled until the dingey was beneath me.
I had climbed up on the rail, and was perched there on my knees, and as
I twisted around to make the painter fast, I over-balanced and fell.

"I guess I struck the boat's gunwale a glancing blow with my head.
Anyway, I bounced off into the water. When I came to the surface I was
at first too stunned to cry out. I needed all my breath, anyway, to
keep afloat. The tide was flooding like a millrace, and sweeping me
with it. I couldn't see the ship; I was isolated in the black fog.

"The water was icy cold and my clothes dragged me under. You remember
how chilly it was last night; I had on sea boots and reefer coat. I
struggled desperately, under water half the time, and managed to slip
off the boots; then I wriggled out of my coat and guernsey. By this
time I knew I was near the beach, and I was almost spent.

"Then, a boat passed me. I could not see it--but I heard oars, or
fancied I did. I tried to call out. But I was too far gone; every
time I opened my mouth it filled with water, and I only spluttered.
Anyway, I wasn't sure it was oars; it was more likely surf on a rock, I
thought. A little later, I felt the ground under my feet, and
staggered up on the beach.

"I was lying on the sand, waiting for strength that would enable me to
hail the ship, when they rushed you. I heard a shriek coming out of
the darkness. It must have been MacLean. Then shouts, and a shot, and
Ruth's scream, and--silence. Oh, I knew then what had happened, and
that I had really passed a boat, Carew's boat!

"I don't like to think about the time that followed. I think I was
crazy for a time; I know I ranged up and down the beach like a madman.
But I retained enough sense to know I couldn't swim against the tide.
It was a miracle I kept afloat with the tide in that Arctic water, and
me a lubberly swimmer. Then, after a long while--how long a time I
don't know; each moment seemed an age--I stumbled upon MacLean's body.
Poor Sails, he could not foretell his own finish!

"He--he couldn't have been quite dead when they threw him over, or he
wouldn't have made the beach so quickly. But he was quite dead then.
I took his knife from his hip--this is it I have here--because I felt I
might hav