CHAPTER II.

RESCUE

We did not take the lift down to the landing-stage. It was busy with bathers; therefore we descended by the rambling stairway cut out of the rock. At the bend, I paused.

Half across the bay, far beyond the waddling group who hugged the bathing pool, where the transparent water showed turquoise blue, I saw a flashing of white limbs and glimpsed a pink-covered head lowered to the swell. Came a rapturous murmur behind me.

“Nanette! Gad! That girl swims like a fish!”

“They should follow with the boat,” Ensleigh’s voice broke in on Jack’s. “There’s a beastly current cuts round the headland.”

“She is safe enough,” said I. “Her fairy godmother was a mermaid--or a siren.”

Nevertheless, when we reached the waiting launch, Nanette’s daring had attracted attention. I could not see her mother; but there was a buzz of excited conversation all around, and the brown-skinned professional was making urgent signals to the boatmen.

“She’s right on our course!” cried Jack. “Come on! Hurry up!”

“Don’t worry,” I implored him, tumbling into the launch.

“But she’ll never be able to swim it!” said Ensleigh, jumping in behind me. “Hullo! What’s this!”

He had stumbled over a bulky parcel wrapped up in newspaper. I thought I recognized the _Times_.

“Please leave alone, sir!” cried the Portuguese in charge. “I aska tella you no touch!”

“Oh!”

Ensleigh stared at him suspiciously, and then we were off.

“Pick her up, Decies!” came a shout from someone on shore. “She’s overdone it this morning. She can never get back!”

The purr of the motor made it difficult to hear the other shouts that followed us. But excitement was growing intense, and I looked out ahead uneasily. I could not see Nanette.

“Can you see her, Decies?” said Jack hoarsely.

“No.”

“There she is!”

The cry came from Ensleigh, and:

“Where?” Jack and I yelled together.

Ignoring us:

“Port, easy!” he directed the man at the wheel. “Now--as she is! Hold it!”

We raced, all out, in the direction of the rash swimmer. A sort of anger claimed me. This crazy performance was a display of girlish pique. I felt particularly sorry for Jack Kelton. He was hanging over the bow in a perfect anguish of terrified expectation. Presently:

“She’s still swimming strongly!” he gasped; then, almost immediately: “My God!”

“What?”

Ensleigh and I were peering ahead over Jack’s shoulder.

“She’s gone down!”

Over the noise of the motor, over the sound of the sea, it reached us dimly--a prolonged, horrified cry from the watchers on shore.

What happened during the next few minutes I am unable to record. I think Jack was fighting with the boatman because he couldn’t get another amp. out of his engine. Ensleigh, I remember, looked dishevelled for the first time in my experience of him. I was drenched with perspiration--and it was not wholly due to the heat of the sun.

Then, dead ahead, not six lengths away, a white arm was thrown up out of the sea.

“Stop her!” I yelled.

Hot on the words came a splash--and Jack was in. He was fully dressed, except that he had shed his college jacket. He reached Nanette as she came up for the second time.

“Reverse! Starboard!”

We described an untidy crescent; and then--Nanette was being hauled aboard. She sank down on the cushions as Jack came clambering over looking like a half-drowned Airedale.

“Nanette!” he panted, and dropped on his knees before her.

She opened starry eyes, and looked at him.

“Yes?” she said.

“Back to the landing-stage,” I heard Ensleigh direct the boatman.

“What’s that!” cried Nanette, surprisingly sitting upright. “Not on your life, Pedro!”

We were riding the swell, the motor silent, and from the now-distant bathing pool I heard a sound of great, prolonged cheering.

Nanette sprang up on the thwart, standing there, poised on tip-toe, a slender young goddess. Jack’s coat was in her hand; and she waved it furiously, looking back to where moving figures showed upon flower-draped terraces.

The cheering was renewed.

“That will relieve Mumsy’s anxiety,” said Nanette, sitting down again. “Please go ahead, Pedro--and would somebody pass me my robe?”

“What!” cried Jack.

Ensleigh tore away the pages of the _Times_ from the mysterious bundle--and there was Nanette’s pink robe!

“Be careful, please!” she said. “My shoes are wrapped up in it.” She turned to Jack, at the same time pulling off her pink bathing cap. “I’m so sorry you jumped in,” she added. “You were a darling to do it, though.”

He had been positively glowering at her; but, at this, he blushed with delight and became a proud and happy man. Nanette shook her tousled head distractingly. Stooping, she pulled out from the folded robe a pair of high-heeled shoes and proceeded to squeeze five tiny wet toes into each of them.

“Nanette!” I said slowly. “Weren’t you drowning?”

She looked up at me.

“Of course I wasn’t drowning!” she returned. “I was swimming under water. I was good for another mile!”

“Nanette!” said Ensleigh. “You will come to a bad end, my child.”

“Please pass me my parasol,” Nanette retorted. “It’s in the locker. And be careful. My bag is inside it.”

The Japanese parasol was discovered. From it, Nanette took a small bag. Surveying herself disdainfully in a square mirror, she combed her hair. She delicately applied lip salve and powdered her impudent nose.

“You are all wet!” said Jack, feasting his eyes.

His case was worse than hers, and I marvelled at the altruism of love.

“The sun will dry me. But, oh! how good that lager will taste! Won’t someone please give me a cigarette?”

I held out a yellow packet, and:

“Nanette,” I said, “one day a Someone will come who will teach you how to behave yourself!”

“Tosh!” said Nanette, taking a Gold Flake. “I’ve outlived that sheikh stuff.”