water swell which floated him where it would. He never moved, or struggled, or seemed to exert himself at all. Musa looking intensely, used to all the ways of the water and those who trusted themselves to it, saw that the swimmer could not make any way, that he was cramped and paralysed. A mere blacklooking log, he lay on the glassy surface with the vertical transparent gleam of the luminous column behind him. Then, as she looked, slowly, quite slowly, he sank.
He was drowning, peacefully, unresistingly, as the sun seemed itself to sink into the sea, tranquilly and of its own will.
Musa wasted not one moment, nor thought again of the apparition on the heavens, but waded in, and struck out towards him.
The water was still warm from the heat of the day; it felt oily and unwholesome; the storm had left a heavy turbulent movement in it that was like a tide and was hard to breast. But she had lived in the sea for hours most days of her life, and was a strong swimmer, capable of long exertion. The body rose up, and once again sank, as she neared it; she knew it would rise yet again; if only she could be certain where it would
