Again I turned my face to leeward, and again I saw the jutting promontory, black and high and naked, the raging surf that broke about its base and beat its front high up with spouting fountains, the black and forbidden coast-line running toward the south-east and fringed with a tremendous scarf of white.
"Maud," I said.

"Maud." She turned her head and beheld the sight.
"It cannot be Alaska!" she cried.
"Alas, no," I answered, and asked, "Can you swim ?" She shook her head.
"Neither can I," I said.

"So we must get ashore without swimming, in some opening between the rocks through which we can drive the boat and clamber out.

But we must be quick, most quick--and sure." I spoke with a confidence she knew I did not feel, for she looked at me with that unfaltering gaze of hers and said: "I have not thanked you yet for all you have done for me but--" She hesitated, as if in doubt how best to word her gratitude.
"Well ?" I said, brutally, for I was not quite pleased with her thanking me.
"You might help me," she smiled.
"To acknowledge your obligations before you die?
Not at all.

We are not going to die.