She laid her cheek against the rough surface of the board and waited. The roar became louder, and they seemed to move faster.
âHere it comes.â
Damita grew tense, and then she felt the plank begin to turn. âLet go!â Yancy yelled. She released her grasp, and he plucked her up and pulled her off to one side. As the board turned over, it struck her left foot, but she had no time to think of that pain, for her head had gone underwater again. She held her breath as best she could. She remembered that Yancy had said not to fight, and it took all of her strength to keep from grabbing at him. He turned her around as if she were a child, his arm went around her chest, and just as she could hold her breath no longer, they both rose above the surface. He did not speak, but she could feel his powerful strokes.
Finally, he yelled, âMy feet hit bottom. Weâre all right.â He stood up, his chest above the waves.
Damitaâs feet touched sand, and she cried out, âI feel it!â She waded out as he half-carried her. The wind tore at them as it raced across the beach. Damita trembled from the cold.
Yancy leaned forward and said in her ear, âWeâve got to get out of this wind. Letâs make for those trees.â
The two pressed against the wind and hurried across the beach to a line of trees. As soon as they stepped
inside their comforting cover, the wind seemed to mitigate, but Damita was shaking so violently she could hardly stand. Yancy held her and said, âCome on. Weâll try to find some shelter. There must be something.â
The two stumbled along through the trees, Yancyâs left arm supporting Damita. She would have fallen more than once, but he pulled her up, saying, âCome on. We can make it. Youâre doing fine.â
Fatigue came then like a blow, and Damita did not think she could lift her feet another step, but Yancy kept pulling her forward. He finally stopped. âLook, hereâs a road. Thereâs got to be something down it. Come on.â The sound of the crashing breakers grew fainter. A hundred yards later, Yancy said, âLook, thereâs something there.â
Damita could see only the vague shadow of a tall vertical object. âWhat is that?â
âItâs an old chimney. There was a house here, but itâs burned.â Then he cried out, âA barn! We can at least get out of the wind.â
Damita felt new strength. The barn was small, but at least it had a roof. When they had reached it, Yancy opened the door and looked inside. It was practically pitch black. A couple of small holes in the walls of the old structure admitted only faint, grayish light. Yancy said, âStand here a minute. Let me feel my way around.â
Shaking as she never had in her life, Damita waited. She rubbed her arms together, but her fingers were numb with the cold. The coat she wore was, of course, soaked, and she felt encased in an icy embrace.
âHere, weâre in luck.â
âWhat is it?â
âThereâs a lot of old hay here, and we can get under it. Itâll help some. First, take off your clothes and wring them out. Theyâll never dry out like that.â
âTake off my clothes?â
âYes. Iâm going to do the same.â Yancy walked a few steps away, faced the opposite wall, and began removing his shirt.
Damita hesitated only an instant, then she pulled off the coat and quickly stripped down to her undergarments. She wrung out her dress, but the coat was too heavy. She put on her clothes, so cold and clammy that she shuddered beneath them.
âAre you dressed?â
âYes.â
âHere, come over here.â
âI couldnât wring the water out of this coat.â
âLet me try.â Yancy did his best with the sopping garment. âHere, lie down.â Damita felt her way past him, and when her feet crunched on the old hay underfoot, she lay down, and he