“Save yourself at least—and leave him to perish. Likely enough he is dead already; why risk your life for a corpse? Without his weight you could easily make the ship. Save yourself, and leave him to his fate. What is he to you?”
Saul’s senses were leaving him fast, ebbing away in a deadly faintness that made even the terror of his position more like a dream than a reality. But even so the words of the tempter fell powerless upon his ears. His answer was to set his teeth and close his embrace more fast around his friend.
“If he dies, I will die with him!” was the unspoken thought of his heart.
A sudden jerk told him that the rope was all payed out. Had he strength to pull it in again? Rallying his failing powers with an almost superhuman effort, and still keeping his arms clasped about Eustace, he got hold of the rope behind his back, and bit by bit he pulled upon it, drawing the double burden slowly—oh! how slowly and painfully!—inch by inch towards the wreck.
The whole of his past life seemed to rise up in review before him without any volition on his own part—his happy childhood with his grandfather in the gardener’s cottage—Abner’s words of loving admonition and instruction—the teaching he had imbibed almost without knowing it, and had deliberately thrust from him later on. Then he seemed to see himself at the farm, working early and late with Farmer Teazel’s men; his brief but ardent courting of Genefer seemed like nothing but a dream; whilst the sudden appearance of Eustace Marchmont into his life was stamped upon his soul as in characters of fire. This man had called him friend—had taught him, cared for him, put himself on an equality with him—had taken his hand as brother might the hand of brother. And he—Saul—had brought him to this—had perhaps done him to death! It must not—it should not be!
A noise of rushing was in his ears. His breath came in laboured gasps. His heart seemed bursting; his eyes were blinded, and could see nothing but a floating, blood-red haze. In laboured gasps of agony the words came from him—words of the first prayer which had ever passed his lips since the days of his childhood—
“Lord, have mercy upon us! God, give me strength to save him!”
And even with those words on his lips his consciousness failed him; black darkness swallowed him up.
