Part 25 (2/2)

It all seemed very wild and strange; but my senses were coming back fast, and in an indistinct manner I saw someone swimming and plas.h.i.+ng the water about twenty yards from the boat. It was a man in a blue woollen s.h.i.+rt, and his head was bald and s.h.i.+ning in the sun, as I saw it for a moment, and then, whoever it was, reared himself high as he could in the water, and then struck off and swam away from us out to sea.

He did not go far, but stopped suddenly and shouted to us; and as he did so, I saw a gleam of something white, and then that he was holding someone's face above water.

Devon Boys--by George Manville Fenn

CHAPTER FOURTEEN.

JUST IN TIME.

”Ahoy, lad!” he shouted. ”Shove a scull over the stern, and scull her this way.”

This roused me, and I jumped up to seize a scull, but felt giddy and nearly fell, for Bob Chowne had hold of my wrist.

”Take hold of the gunwale, Bob,” I panted, as I tried again, and this time felt better, getting an oar over behind, and sending the boat along, as I had learned to years before.

It was slow and awkward work, with Bob hanging on to the side with his eyes fixed, and his face white; but I got her along, and before I had been sculling many minutes, a great brown hand was thrown over on the opposite side to where Bob clung, and Jonas Uggleston said hoa.r.s.ely:

”Lay in your oar, mate, and lean over, and take hold of Bigley here.

Get your arm well under him. That's right. Keep his head out of the water. I'm about beat for a bit.”

I obeyed him in a dreamy way, getting Bigley's arm over into the boat, while I knelt down and put mine round him, and held him close to the side.

”Can you hold on, youngster?” said old Jonas hoa.r.s.ely. This was to Bob Chowne, who stared at him wildly, and did not speak.

”Nice chance for me,” growled old Jonas. ”There, hold fast, my lads.

I'm going to get in over the starn.”

The boat rose and fell and rocked as he came round, pa.s.sed me hand over hand, to pause by the stern, and I thought he was going to climb in; but he altered his mind, and went on round by where Bob Chowne clung, held on with one hand, while he thrust his right arm under the water, and the next moment he had hoisted Bob right up and rolled him over into the boat, where he lay for a few moments apparently quite helpless.

”Now, young Duncan,” said old Jonas, ”you hold him fast. I'll get in this side. She won't go over.”

It was done in a moment; he let himself sink down, and turn, gave a spring as I turned my head round to watch him; the gunwale of the boat seemed to go down level with the water, and he was on board, while, before I could realise it, he was bending over me to get his arms under poor Big's and drag him into the boat, this time sending the gunwale so low that a quant.i.ty of water came in as well.

Old Jonas set his son up in the stern with his back against the rowlock, and it was no easy job, for Big was limp, and tremendously heavy; but the b.u.mping about seemed to do him some good, for, just as I was about to ask in a voice full of awe if he was dead, poor Bigley uttered a low groan.

”Hah! He's coming to, then,” said old Jonas, panting heavily, as he seated himself on the middle thwart. ”Here, you young doctor, take that pannikin, and bale out some of that water you're lying in. You don't want another bath, do you?”

Bob Chowne got up on to his knees in the bottom of the boat, s.h.i.+vering and blue, and stared wildly at us all in turn.

”Cold, eh?” growled old Jonas. ”Well, then, I'll bale, and you two row to the lugger.”

He glanced round at his son, who was showing signs of returning animation; but it evoked no sympathy before us, whatever he might have felt, for he only frowned as, in a s.h.i.+vering mechanical way, we two wretched boys seized an oar apiece, sat down on the wet thwarts and began to row.

”Now, then,” shouted old Jonas, ”look where you're going. Pull, doctor!

Easy, captain! That's better.”

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