She leapt upon the jetty.  Aileen followed, and flung herself into the skiff, thrusting the oars into the rowlocks.  ’Possum tugged at the painter, and abused Tom’s knots under her breath.  They yielded at last, and she sprang in, pushing off with a force that sent the boat spinning down-stream.  ’Possum grasped the oars, Aileen was already at the tiller—staring ahead in utter silence, seeing nothing but the little blue and white figure.  It swung round a bend, and was out of sight.