“I never have been afraid!” declared Gazza.
“You would not jump in after me,” said Hortense, taking his measure more and more provokingly.
Gazza laid his hand on his heart. “Where you go, I will go!”
Hortense looked at him, and laughed very slightly and lightly.
John’s eyes were now fixed upon Hortense.
“Decidedly not!” he returned. I don’t know whether he was angry or anxious.
“Oh, yes, you would!” said Hortense; and she jumped into the water, cigarette and all.
“Get a boat, quick,” said John to me; and with his coat flung off he was in the river, whose current Hortense could scarce have reckoned with; for they were both already astern as I ran out on the port boat boom.
Gazza was dancing and shrieking, “Man overboard!” which, indeed, was the correct expression, only it did not apply to himself. Gazza was a very sensible person. I had, as I dropped into the nearest boat, a brisk sight of the sailing-master, springing like a jack-in-the-box on the deserted deck, with a roar of “Where’s that haymaker?” His reference was to the anchor watch. The temptation to procure good matches to light his pipe had ended (I learned later) by proving too much for this responsible sailor-man, and he had unfortunately chosen for going below just the unexpected moment when it had entered the daring head of Hortense to perform this extravagance. Of course, before I had pulled many strokes, the deck of the Hermana was alive with many manifestations of life-saving and they had most likely been in time. But I am not perfectly sure of this; the current was strong, and a surprising distance seemed to broaden between me and the Hermana before another boat came into sight around her stern. By then, or just after that (for I cannot clearly remember the details of these few anxious minutes), I had caught up with John, whose face, and total silence, as he gripped the stern of the boat with one hand and held Hortense with the other, plainly betrayed it was high time somebody came. A man can swim (especially in salt water) with his shoes on, and his clothes add nothing of embarrassment, if his arms are free; but a woman’s clothes do not help either his buoyancy or the freedom of his movement. John now lifted Hortense’s two hands, which took a good hold of the boat. From between her lips the dishevelled cigarette, bitten through and limp, fell into the water. The boat felt the weight of the two hands to it.