The moonlight was bright on the water, but the little waves tossed it so that it must have been hard for them to know which was I and which the floating stuff.

Certainly, the first arrows that were shot when the bowmen got a chance at me from the ship or over her were aimed at the blanket, for I heard them strike it.

Then one leapt from wave to wave past me.
I won to the boat just in time, for I could not have held on much longer.

The cold was numbing me, and if I stopped swimming I must have sunk with the weight of mail.

None of our old summer tricks of floating and the like were of any use with that weight on me.