Theory had not put itself into practice as quickly
as the emergency required,--all the less so in that it had to work through
a crew encumbered with a longish skirt and a close jacket. The sloop keeled
over; Cope was instantly entangled with the mainsail and some miscellaneous
cordage; and Amy, with the water soaking her closely-fitting garments,
found herself clutching the cockpit's edge.
She saw Cope's predicament and let go her hold to set him free. He helped
shake himself loose with a loud forced laugh and a toss of the head to get
his long hair out of his eyes. "We'll leave the wreck," he spluttered, "and
make for the shore." The shore, fortunately, was scarcely more than a
hundred yards away,--yet never had the great twin towers of the library
seemed so distant or the wireless cage on Science hall so futile.
They swam, easily, side by side, he supporting her in her cramped clothes
at the start, and she, a bit concerned, somewhat supporting him toward the
end. Meanwhile, there was some stir at the life-saving station, a quarter
of a mile down the shore.
The last hundred feet meant mere wading, though there was some variability
among the sand ridges of the bottom; but the water, at its deepest, never
reached their shoulders.
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