Harper's Round Table, December 10, 1895

Copyright, 1895, by Harper & Brothers. All Rights Reserved.

The tide ran so swiftly that at first it appeared to George that he did not gain an inch on the drifting boat, and the short choppy waves dashing against his face almost drove his breath away at times. The day when his brother William had saved him from drowning at Stanham Mills came back to him.
But surely he was drawing nearer! he could see the hull much more distinctly, and could hear the loose oars rolling across the thwarts.
Desperately he forged along; he was calling on his nerves, his vital force, for a last effort. In a moment more he reached the stern, and, placing his knee on the rudder, fell inside the boat.
To save himself he could not lift a finger now; he lay there perfectly conscious, sprawled in the stern sheets, his chest heaving, his head thrown back—played out in every muscle. It was fully half an hour before he moved, and when he did so the sense of his position came fully upon him.
All about reached the opaque white wall, and although a short time before it had been so warm, George now felt chilled—his teeth were rattling. This reminded him of the coats, and the letter in Carter's pocket that had nearly cost his life.
Getting on his knees he perceived to his astonishment that the boat was half filled with water, and that the coats were floating in it at his feet.
At once he set to work, and there being nothing else to use he took his hat and Carter's and baled with both hands.

This exercise warmed him, and started his blood and pulse going once again.