Masters did not speak a word, nor did I, until we found ourselves in the cabin.
I tore the wet clothes off me and turned my arm to the mirror. I knew I could not have been mistaken when I felt them.
There on the upper arm, above the line of sunburn that one gets from working with sleeves rolled up, there on the white skin showed the red marks of four slender fingers and a thumb! I sat down suddenly at sight of them, and pulling open a drawer, found a flask of neat brandy, and gulped it down, emptied it in one gulp.
Then I turned to him and pointed to the marks.
"In God's name, how came these here?" I said. "What—what happened up there on deck?"
He looked at me very gravely.
"I saved you," he said, "or rather I didn't, for I could not. But she did."
"What do you mean?" I stammered.
"Let me get these clothes off," he said, "and some dry ones on; and I'll tell you."
Words fail to describe my feelings as I watched the clothes come off him and dry ones go on just as if hands were arranging them.