He looked along the deck, and his gaze fell upon a short but stout knife that the sailors had used in cutting away some of the half-burned bales of cloth. He picked up the knife, and taking it between his teeth, stripped off his coat.
“What are you going to do?” asked Mr. Whyland, hurrying towards him.
“See if I cannot help him,” was Oliver’s determined reply.
“But the peril—”
“I would never forgive myself if Gus perished and I did not do a thing to save him.”
And [before the other could interfere, Oliver was on the rail and over the side].
“The bravery of one boy in a thousand,” murmured Mr. Whyland to himself. “I would give half I possess to have such a son!”
Oliver had made a careful calculation before he left the rail, and when he rose to the surface of the water he was not over two yards away from Gus. He struck out at once, and in an instant was beside his friend.
“Oliver! Save me!”