Agatha wondered with some uneasiness what they thought was going to happen.
The rain got lighter suddenly and a cold draught touched her forehead.
She saw Thirlwell glance astern, although he did not miss a stroke.

His soaked hat drooped about his head and his thin overalls were dripping; she thought he saw she was looking at him, but he did not speak.

Then the haze that had shut them in rolled back and a dark line advanced across the lake.

It had a white edge and there was a curious humming, rippling noise that got louder.

Thirlwell signed to one of the _Metis_, who stepped a mast in the hole through a beam and loosed a small sail.
The sail blew out like a flag, snapping violently, and the man struggled hard to push up the pole that extended its peak.