[He saw the man just ahead, and on the port bow, swimming frantically]
“Come aft, Osborn, and sit beside this fellow, and if he makes the slightest movement, nab him; don’t let him jump. Number one port oar, get hold of the painter of the catamaran and pass it aft. We’ll tow the catamaran back; and there’s the oar, pick that up.”
Ralph recognized the man to be Collins, the oiler. The latter sat in the dinghy’s stern, with his head in his hands, vainly endeavoring to control hopeless, convulsive sobs that shook him. Ralph looked at him with mixed feelings; first he was elated that he had done his duty well; but also his heart was touched by the utter dejection and hopeless misery of the dripping figure beside him.
In a few moments the dinghy was alongside the Puritan’s gangway. Awaiting was Lieutenant-Commander Graham.
“Have you got him?” he called out. “Yes, I see you have, and you have the catamaran. Well done. Oh, I see, it’s Collins, is it? I’m not surprised. Master-at-arms, see that Collins gets well rubbed down, put him in dry clothing, and then tie him up in double irons; we’ll attend to his case to-morrow. Mr. Anderson, you did very well. Mr. Jenson, you were up to your job, too. And who was the midshipman on anchor watch who reported Collins when he jumped ship?”
“Third Classman Osborn, sir. He also went in the dinghy and hooked Collins in the water. Collins jumped overboard from the catamaran.”
“You are beginning well, Mr. Osborn. Keep it up, young man.”
Ralph tingled with pleasure at this praise from his dreaded executive officer, yet with it he felt great pity for Collins. “Poor fellow,” he reflected, “I suppose he was made desperate by his wife being sick; I’m awfully sorry for him.”
Ralph now turned in. The next day “mast” was held by Captain Waddell, who had returned in the morning. A number of enlisted men were lined up before the captain, charged with various offenses.