They would clear it; no, the wash sucked them in like a magnet.
"Good-bye," said Morris instinctively, but Stella answered nothing.
The wave that lifted them broke upon the rock in a cloud of spray wherein for some few instants their boat seemed to vanish.

They were against it; the boat touched, and Stella felt a long ribbon of seaweed cut her like a whip across the face.

Kneeling down, Morris thrust madly with the boat-hook, and thus for an instant--just one--held her off.

His arms doubled beneath the strain, and then came the back-wash.
Oh, heaven! it had swept them clear.

The rock was behind, the sail drew, and swiftly they fled away from the death that had seemed certain.
Stella sighed aloud, while Morris wiped the water from his face.
"Are we clear ?" she asked presently.
"Of the Sunk Rocks?
Yes, we are round them.