my chest. "It's Joe.
It's my Joe. He's drowning."

I held her fast.

She looked up at me suddenly with a strange quietness, as if she did
not understand me and what I did. As she spoke, she forgot her King's
English.

"Ain't you goin' to help him? It's Joe. You ain't scared o' the sea.
You can do it. Get him to me, George. Oh!--get me Joe. I want him.
I want him. He's mine."

I grasped her by the arm and shook her, as I shouted in her ear:

"Do you love Joe,--Rita;--love him enough to marry him if I go out for
him?"

"Oh, yes, yes! Get him, George. I love Joe. I always loved him."

In that moment, I made up my mind.

"If we come back, little woman," I cried, "it will be down there at the
end of the Island. Run home;--get grand-dad and the others in some
boats. It isn't so bad down there. Watch out for us.

"If I don't come back, Rita,--dear, little Rita----"

I took her face in my hands and pressed my lips on hers.

I ran from her, up over the cliffs, away to the far side of the horn,
where the eddy made the sea quieter. I threw off my boots and
superfluous clothing and sprang into the water. Out, out I plunged,
and plunged again, keeping under water most of the time, until at last
I got caught in the terrible rush three hundred yards straight out from
the point.

I well knew the dreadful odds I was facing, yet I was unafraid. The
sea was my home, almost as much as the land. I laughed at its
buffeting. I defied it. What cared I? What had I to lose?--nothing!
And,--I might win Joe for Rita, and make her happy.

In the very spirit of my defiance, I was calling up forces to work and
fight for me, forces that faint-heartedness and fear could never have
conjured to their aid.

On,--on I battled,--going with the rush,--holding back a little,--and
easing out, and out, all the time toward the Rock.

Half an hour passed;--perhaps an hour,--for I lost count of time and
distance in my struggling. But, at last, battered and half-smothered,
yet still crying defiance to everything, I found myself rising with a
mountainous sea and bearing straight upon The Ghoul. As I was lifted
up, I strained my eyes toward the teeth of the rock.

Joe Clark,--that Hercules of men,--was still hanging on
desperately:--no hope in his heart, but loth as ever to admit defeat,
even to the elements.

With tremendous force, I was thrown forward. As the wave broke, I
flashed past Joe in the mad rush of water.