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Hunting the Skipper: The Cruise of the "Seafowl" Sloop, a fiction by George Manville Fenn |
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Chapter 19. "Man Overboard!" |
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_ CHAPTER NINETEEN. "MAN OVERBOARD!" Murray leaned over the side, looking down at the dimly seen figure of his companion, hardly visible in the disturbed water, and full of the expectation of seeing him come up again directly. "What a ducking!" he thought to himself, and his features were corrugated with mirth. Tom May too was indulging in a hearty grin, which however began to smooth into a look of horror in nowise behind the aspect of Murray's face, for both now began to realise the fact that the tightened cord at which the harpooned fish was evidently tugging was rapidly drawing the middy farther and farther down, while the sloop was steadily gliding onward and leaving the unfortunate youth behind. It was a time for action, and the moment Murray could throw off the nightmare-like feeling which held him motionless he sprang upon the rail, shouted loudly "Man overboard!" and then without a moment's hesitation plunged headlong down, taking a header into the glittering sunlit water below. "A man overboard!" The most thrilling words that can be uttered at sea--words which chill the hearers for a moment and then are followed by a wild feeling of excitement which pervades more than runs through a ship, awakening it as it were with one great throb from frigid silence to excited life. In this instance, as Frank Murray made his spring, his words seemed to be echoed by Tom May in a deep roar as he too sprang upon the rail, from which he leaped, throwing his hands on high as he described a curve outward from the _Seafowl's_ side, and then in the reverse of his position as his fingers touched the water there was a heavy splash, and those who ran to the side caught sight of the soles of his feet as he too disappeared for a short space beneath the rippled sea. There was but a trifle of confusion on deck: the orders rang out, but almost before they were uttered the men were running to their stations in connection with one of the boats, which was rapidly manned; the blocks of the falls creaked as she sank down and kissed the water; the varnished ash blades flashed in the sunshine as they were seized and run from the rowlocks into regular double lines; and then, as they dipped, the cutter seemed to be endued with life, and darted forward to the rescue. Meanwhile, confused by his sudden drag from daylight into semi-darkness and confusion, Roberts had recovered himself sufficiently to begin trying to free his wrist from the thin line which cut into it deeply as tug, tug, tug, it was drawn tighter and tighter by the harpooned fish, into whose back the barbed iron prongs had plunged deeply, and, far from robbing it of life, seemed only to have nerved it and stimulated it with a power that was extraordinary in a creature of its size. For the midshipman, as he struck out with one arm, felt himself dragged beneath the surface by his victim, whose efforts were directed entirely towards sounding deeply to seek the safety offered by the darkness fathoms below. Tug and jerk, tug and jerk, in the midst of a confusion that grew more and more wild, as the midshipman strove to free himself from the bond which held him fast. The water thundered in his ears in a series of strange sounds which deepened into one deafening roar. The power of thinking of his position was rapidly passing away; the water above him grew darker and darker; and at last in one involuntary effort the lad ceased his struggle to free his wrist, and struck out wildly with arms and legs to force himself to the surface. It was quite time, and fortunately the efforts of the fish to drag him down were for the moment weakening, while in response to his wild struggle the light grew brighter, and just as consciousness was about to leave him, the lad's head rose above the surface again and he gasped for breath. It was life, but the respirations were succeeded directly by a renewal of the sharp tugs at his wrist, and the water was about to close over his head again, when he felt the touch of a hand and heard the panting voice of some one whose tones were familiar, as he was turned over face upward and his descent was checked. Then amidst the confusion and his attempts to recover his breath, the unfortunate lad heard another voice, and the gruff tones seemed to be those of one giving orders. "Hooroar, my lad!" came, close to the middy's ear. "That's good. Wait a moment. My knife'll soon cut him clear." "No, no, Tom; don't cut. We can keep him up now. Shout for the boat." "They don't want no shoutin', sir. They'll be here directly." These words all seemed to reach the ears of Roberts from somewhere far away, and then the water was thundering in them again, and he began once more to struggle for life. Then again he seemed to get his breath in a half-choking confused way, as he heard the gruff tones begin again. "I'd better cut, sir, on'y my knife won't open." "No, no, Tom; we can manage. Keep his head well up." "All right, sir. That was the beggar's flurry. Dessay he's turning up his white." "Hooray!" came like another echo, along with the splash of oars, and then half consciously Roberts felt himself dragged over the side of the boat. There was another cheer, and a strange sound as of a fish beating the planks rapidly with its tail, while Murray's breathless voice, sounding a long way off, said-- "My word, he is a strong one! I am glad we've got him." Then several other voices seemed to be speaking together, but in a confused way, and Roberts felt as if he had been asleep, till some one whose voice sounded like the doctor's said-- "Oh, he's all right now, sir." "Who's all right now?" thought the lad; and he opened his eyes, to find himself lying upon the deck with the doctor upon one knee by his side, and pretty well surrounded by the officers and men. "Nice wet fellow you are, Roberts," said the doctor. "Eh?" said the lad, staring confusedly. "Have I been overboard?" "Well, yes, just a trifle," replied the doctor. "Oh yes, I remember now. Ah! Where's Frank Murray?" cried the lad excitedly. "Here I am all right!" came from behind him. "Ah!" ejaculated the half insensible lad, and he gave vent to a deep sigh of relief and closed his eyes. "I was afraid that--that--" "But I am all right, Dick," cried Murray, catching the speaker by the hand. "Ah, that's right. I was afraid--somehow--I thought you were drowned." "There, there," cried the doctor, bending over the lad and patting his shoulder, "nobody has been drowned, and you are all right again, so I want you to get below and have a good towelling and then tumble into some dry things while I mix you up a draught of--What's the matter now?" Roberts had suddenly sprung up into a sitting position, as if the doctor's last words had touched a spring somewhere in the lad's spine. "Nothing, sir--nothing," he cried excitedly. "I'm all right again now. I recollect all about it, and how Frank Murray saved my life." "Oh, it was Tom May did the most of it, Dick." "Did he help?" continued the lad. "Ah, he's a good fellow,--Tom May. But I'm all right now, doctor; and where's the fish?" The lad stared about him in a puzzled way, for he had become conscious of the fact that those around him were roaring with laughter, an outburst which was gradually subsiding, while those most affected were wiping their eyes, when his last query about the fish set them off again. "Why, doctor," said the captain, trying to look serious, but evidently enjoying the mirth as much as any one present, "who is going to doubt the efficacy of your medicine after this? The very mention of it in Mr Roberts's hearing acted upon him like magic. Did you see how he started up like the man in the old tooth tincture advertisement--'Ha, ha! Cured in an instant!'" "Oh yes, sir," said the doctor grimly; "but it's all very fine. You are all glad of my help sometimes." "Of course, my dear Reston," said the captain. "No one slights you and your skill; but you must own that it was comic to see how Mr Roberts started up the moment you said physic." "Oh yes, it was droll enough," said the doctor good-humouredly. "There, Roberts, if you feel well enough to do without my draught I will not mix one. What do you say?" "Oh, I'm all right now, sir," cried the lad--"at least I shall be as soon as I've changed." "Off with you, then," said the doctor; and catching hold of Murray's proffered arm, Roberts and his friend hurried below. _ |
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