With one remaining effort he threw up his arm, at the same time letting the rope slip from his grasp.
I caught his hand and held on to it with all my power. The man's weight was a tremendous strain on my muscles, but fortunately they stood the test, and then I began to drag him over the rail.
It was no easy task. The schooner having lost part of her headway, tossed and pitched dreadfully, and once the water poured over me in a perfect deluge.
But I had made up my mind to save the man, and I did not give up. I braced myself against the rail, and then Dibble gave me his hand; and a moment later the unfortunate was safe upon the deck.
"Thank God, I'm saved!" he murmured, and then he sank back unconscious.
By this time Captain Hannock had come forward to see what had taken place.
"Humph! only another mouth to feed!" he ejaculated. "Who saved him? Did you, Dibble?"
"I tried to, but Foster was the one to do it, brave lad that he is!" replied the old sailor.
"Foster seems to carry himself high!" sneered the captain. "Well, take him to the forecastle, some of you, and let him get over it. We'll carry him to New Bedford, providing he pays for his passage."
I was utterly disgusted with Captain Hannock's brutal words, but came to the conclusion that they were due in great part to the liquor he had drunk. I helped Dibble carry the rescued man to the forecastle, and here the old sailor and myself did all in our power to bring him to his senses.