The wind was favourable, and I had thought to tow them back under sail, but the wind baffled, then died away, and our progress with the oars was a snail's pace.

And it was such dispiriting effort.

To throw one's whole strength and weight on the oars and to feel the boat checked in its forward lunge by the heavy drag behind, was not exactly exhilarating.
Night began to fall, and to make matters worse, the wind sprang up ahead.
Not only did all forward motion cease, but we began to drift back and out to sea.

I struggled at the oars till I was played out.

Poor Maud, whom I could never prevent from working to the limit of her strength, lay weakly back in the stern-sheets.