As she did so she caught the sound of oars grating in rowlocks.

She turned her head, saw a boat cutting through the water at a prodigious rate not twenty strokes from her, caught a glimpse of its one rower, and without a second's hesitation flung up an imperious arm.
"Stop!" she cried.

"It's me!" He ceased to row on the instant, but the boat shot on.

She saw the concern in his face as he brought it back.

His black head shone wet in the sunlight.