But the sharp bows were firmly bedded in the
shingle, and we were in no danger of broaching to as wave after
wave hurled itself after us.
Bertric had stayed to take the casket of gold from the place in the
stern where we had set it.
"I had no mind to see the stern go to pieces and take this with
it," he said, setting the load at his feet. "The tide has not
reached its height yet, and she will be roughly handled. We had
best get ashore while we can. We may do it between the breakers."
I watched the next that came roaring past us. It ran twenty yards
up the shelving beach, and then went back with a rush and rattle of
pebbles, leaving us nearly dry around the bows. We might have three
feet of water to struggle through at first for a few paces, but
that was nothing. Even Gerda could be no wetter than she was, and
the one fear was that one might lose foothold when the next wave
came. It did not take long to decide what we had to do, therefore.
A wave came in, spent itself in rushing foam, and drew back. I was
over the bows with its first sign of ebb, and dropped into the
water when it seemed well-nigh at its lowest, finding it neck-deep
for the moment. It sank to my waist, and Dalfin was alongside me,
spluttering. Then Bertric helped Gerda over the gunwale, and I took
her in my arms, holding her as high as I could, and turning at once
shoreward.
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