“Can you see any flag?” he asked, wearily. “Perhaps we have been fooled after all. The ships may belong to the Confederate navy.”
Soon they could detect, as they drew nearer, a flutter of bunting from the vessel nearest to them.
“It’s the old flag!” cried George, jumping from his seat in the stern with a precipitancy that threatened to upset the boat. “See the blue—and the red and white stripes! Hurrah!” But he was too weak for much enthusiasm even now and he soon had to sit down once more.
Watson uttered a cry which was meant to be triumphant, although it came like a hoarse croak from his parched throat. Then the tears gushed into his eyes as he gazed again upon the flag. It almost seemed as if he were home again.
Nearer and nearer they rowed to the squadron. There were four ships of war, and now they could see the sailors walking the decks and the guns in the portholes.
“We’ll be there in ten minutes now,” said Watson, “and I think I can eat a——” He gasped and failed to finish the sentence. He half rose from his seat, relinquished the oars, with a despairing cry, and then, losing all consciousness, pitched over the gunwale into the sunlit waters of the Gulf.
George jumped up from the stern and stretched out his arm to seize the inanimate body of his friend. But the movement was too much for the equilibrium of the frail boat and for the balance of the boy. Out into the water shot George, overturning the craft until its keel was in the air.
George struck out for Watson and succeeded in grabbing him by the hair of his head just as he was about to disappear beneath the waves. Then he changed his hold upon the man, and with his left hand clutching the neck of Watson’s coat he pulled to the side of the upturned boat. To this he held with his right hand like grim death, as he put his left arm around Watson’s waist. The boy was panting for breath, and as weak as if he had been swimming for miles. Not until now had he thoroughly realized how hunger, exposure and privation had done their work. The next instant he felt a gentle paddling near him; he looked down and there was Waggie’s wet but plucky little face.
“Hello! old boy,” said George. “I would rather drown myself than see you go under. So here goes!”
He released his hold of Watson and by a quick movement swung Waggie to the upturned bottom of the boat, near the keel. The tiny animal gave a bark that said “Thank you,” as plainly as if he had spelled out every letter of the two words. George again seized Watson and clung to the boat more tightly than before. The soldier gradually came back to consciousness.