"I've thrown her off!" he exclaimed. "I've thrown her off!"

He reached his whole length over the boat, I ran to his side, and
perhaps our motion impelled it, or perhaps some unseen hand; for he
caught at an end of rope, drew it in a second, let go and clutched at a
handful of the sail, and then I saw how it had twisted round and swept
poor little Faith over, and she had swung there in it like a dead
butterfly in a chrysalis. The lightnings were slipping down into the
water like blades of fire everywhere around us, with short, sharp
volleys of thunder, and the waves were more than I ever rode this side
of the bar before or since, and we took in water every time our hearts
beat; but we never once thought of our own danger while we bent to pull
dear little Faith out of hers; and that done, Dan broke into a great
hearty fit of crying that I'm sure he'd no need to be ashamed of. But it
didn't last long; he just up and dashed off the tears and set himself at
work again, while I was down on the floor rubbing Faith. There she
lay like a broken lily, with no life in her little white face, and no
breath, and maybe a pulse and maybe not. I couldn't hear a word Dan
said, for the wind; and the rain was pouring through us. I saw him take
out the oars, but I knew they'd do no good in such a chop, even if they
didn't break; and pretty soon he found it so, for he drew them in and
began to untie the anchor-rope and wind it round his waist. I sprang to
him.

"What are you doing, Dan?" I exclaimed.

"I can swim, at least," he answered.

"And tow us?--a mile? You know you can't! It's madness!"