He dove. The coolness shocked him. He surfaced. He saw her face, contorted with effort, on the face of a swell. He knifed uphill. He reached her, slid his hip under her back and his arm across her breasts, and ploughed for the orange ring. It was drifting downwind fast. He barely reached it. He jammed an arm through it, rested for a moment, holding her high. Her eyes were closed.

“Lindy,” he begged. “Lindy?”

A line of mucous oozed from her nose. He wiped her face with his arm. She opened her eyes. They were very dim.

“I fell,” she murmured. “Mitch—”

Her mouth went slack. She seemed to strangle. Panicked, he squeezed her nose shut, found her mouth with his lips, bent her head back, and tried to breathe into her lungs. The life ring yanked at his crooked elbow, almost pulling free. He grabbed convulsively, got his arm back through it, and found that he was forcing her head beneath the waves. He quit the mouth-to-mouth; he had to get her aboard. The ring tugged again. He glanced at the boat. His heart almost stopped.

Linda Lee was hobbyhorsing, pitching at each swell. The jib had eased from its furlings and was filling with wind at each crest. The jibsheet was fouled. As the sail bellied it began to climb magically up the headstay. In the lee of a trough, it would drop, then mount further on the next crest. The ketch’s bow was turning downwind, and with every swell the jib climbed further and the sail grew fatter.

The life ring jerked again, almost pulling his arm from its socket as it began to tow them both. His back, supporting Lindy, went out with a shock of agony.

The boat was headed dead downwind now, full-breasted and gathering way. A tiny bow wave formed at her stem, like a smile; then her bow was hidden by her buttocks and Irwin was beckoning him from astern, as if urging him to hurry.

His arm slipped again. Linda Lee heaved forward, towing them faster. He hung on, a link between Lindy, life ring, line, and boat. The flag, the horseshoe that had saved her, and the light were already lost astern.

The ketch began to draw a wake, half-drowning him. Across thirty feet of water, he heard a burst of static from the radio through her open hatch. The water was a giant hand, shoving against his face, tearing Lindy from his grip. He tried to shift her weight. She planed under and slithered from his grasp.

He was suddenly light in the water. If he pulled himself aboard and came back...