Guy held the life ring ready to throw but Clothilde stood paralyzed, the mud halfway up her calves, the silk folds of her blue skirt stuck to her legs. “You have to catch this, my dear,” he called in a kind, almost gentle voice, quite unlike the one he had used with Petra. Despite Petra’s correct dismissal of the usefulness of the ring, he knew that it would give Clothilde some sense of hope and with any luck shake off her paralysis. He measured the distance with his eye and then sent the ring in an arc through the air. Clothilde raised her arms to catch it. A seagull cried, she screeched in alarm and the ring fell into the mud at her feet.

“Can you pick it up?” Guy asked in the same gentle voice, hiding his frustration. He glanced toward the horizon. The silver line was now an unmistakable wave of water moving toward the beach.

Clothilde bent a little, reaching down to grab the ring as it lay in the mud. She seized it. It was thick with mud and she looked at it helplessly as if unsure what she was to do with it.

“Put it over your head,” Petra yelled, and startled at her sharpness Clothilde did so, shuddering as the wet, muddy thing encircled her body.

Petra’s fingers were bleeding as she struggled with the last wet coil of the thick rope but at last she had it. “Here.” She handed one end to Guy, who still stood outside the boat. “If she can grab hold of that, we can both pull her in. I’ll stay in the boat and pull from here.”

Guy nodded, casting another anxious glance at the fast approaching wave. He could hear it now, a subdued but unmistakable rushing surge of sound. “Hold on to this as tightly as you can.” He looped the rope around his hand, leaned as far forward as he dared and tossed it toward Clothilde.

Somehow, this time she caught it. “Now,” Petra called, “tie it around your waist so that if you drop it, it won’t be lost.” Clothilde obeyed, her fingers all thumbs, but at last it was done. The first little rivulets of water crept across the mud toward her.

“Now, Petra,” Guy said, hauling on the rope, hand over hand.

Petra took a firm stance in the slanting boat and pulled with all her strength. Clothilde didn’t seem to move at first, and then, as Guy gave another almighty heave, the mud gave up its hold with a great sucking sound and she was dragged across it until Guy got his hands around her and lifted her bodily into the boat.

She lay on the sludgy bottom, a pitiful sight, mud and tears streaking her perfect complexion.

“What now?” Petra asked as Guy pulled himself over the side into the dinghy.