Instead of coming round into the channel, he kept straight on past the
lighthouse towards the yacht, until he was something to seaward of her.
Then, luffing quickly, he dropped sail, let go the anchor, and unshipped
the mast, while Andree got the oars into the rowlocks. It was his idea
to dip under the yacht's stern, but he found himself drifting alongside,
and in danger of dashing broadside on her. He got an oar and backed with
all his strength towards the stern, the anchor holding well. Then he
called to those on board to be ready to jump. Once in line with the
Kismet's counter, he eased off the painter rapidly, and now dropped
towards the stern of the wreck.

Gaston was quite cool. He did not now think of the dramatic nature of
this meeting, apart from the physical danger. Delia also had recognised
him, and guessed who the girl was. Not to respond to Gaston's call was
her first instinct. But then, life was sweet. Besides, she had to think
of others. Her father, too, was chiefly concerned for her safety and for
his yacht. He had almost determined to get Delia on Gaston's boat, and
himself take the chances with the Kismet; but his sailors dissuaded him,
declaring that the chances were against succour.

The only greetings were words of warning and direction from Gaston.
Presently there was an opportunity. Gaston called sharply to Delia,
and she, standing ready, jumped. He caught her in his arms as she
came. The boat swayed as the others leaped, and he held her close
meanwhile. Her eyes closed, she shuddered and went white. When he put
her down, she covered her face with her hands, trembling. Then, suddenly
she came huddling in a heap, and burst into tears.

They slipped the painter, a sailor took Andree's place at the helm, the
oars were got out, and they made over to the channel, grazing the bar