The sea-child, gazing in surprise, began to recede quickly.

Caius ran into the water; he projected himself toward the mermaid, and swam with all the speed of which he was capable.
The salt in his eyes at first obscured his vision.

When he could look about, the sea-child had gone out of the track of the moonlight, and, taking advantage of the current, was moving rapidly out to sea.
He, too, swam with the current.

He saw her curly head dark as a dog's in the water; her face was turned from him, and there was evident movement in her body.

For the first time he thought he perceived that she was swimming with arms and feet as a woman must swim.
As for Caius, he made all the effort that in him lay, and as she receded past the line of the island right out into the moonlit sea, he swam madly after, reckless of the fact that his swimming power gave him no assurance of being able to return, reckless of everything except the one welcome fact that he was gaining on the sea-child.