“Oh, we can't beat to windward for him,” said Sharpe; “he is dead long ago.”
“Holds his head very high for a corpse,” said the look-out.
“I'll soon know,” cried Dodd. “Lower the gig; I'll go myself.”
The gig was lowered, and six swift rowers pulled him to windward, while the ship kept on her course.
It is most unusual for a captain to leave the ship at sea on such petty errands: but Dodd half hoped the man might be alive; and he was so unhappy; and, like his daughter, who probably derived the trait from him, grasped instinctively at a chance of doing kindness to some poor fellow alive or dead. That would soothe his own sore, good heart.
When they had pulled about two miles, the sun was sinking into the horizon. “Give way, men,” said Dodd, “or we shall not be able to see him.” The men bent to their oars and made the boat fly.
Presently the coxswain caught sight of an object bobbing on the water abeam.
“Why, that must be it,” said he: “the lubber! to take it for a man's head. Why, it is nothing but a thundering old bladder, speckled white.”
“What?” cried Dodd, and fell a-trembling. “Steer for it! Give way!”
“Ay, ay, sir!”