“They are taking him to the inn,” was the reply; “I will go and see if I can be of any use, now I know you are unhurt; but I could not leave you till I felt sure of that.”
“I fancied you seemed in pain just now,” said I.
“I struck my head against some part of the boat when she capsized,” returned Oaklands, “and the blow stunned me for a minute or two, so that I knew nothing of what was going on till I saw you rush into the water to save Coleman; that roused me effectually, and I helped them to pull you both out. Frank, you have saved his life.”
“If it is saved,” rejoined I. “Let us go and see how he is getting on; I think I can walk now, if you will let me lean upon your arm.”
With the assistance of Oaklands I contrived to reach the inn without much difficulty; indeed, by the time I got there (the walk having served in great measure to restore my circulation) I scarcely felt any ill effects from my late exertions. The inn presented a rare scene of confusion: people were hurrying in and out, the messenger sent for the doctor had just returned, breathless, to say he was not to be found; the fat landlady, in a state of the greatest excitement, was trotting about making impracticable suggestions, to which no one paid the slightest attention, while Coleman, still insensible, lay wrapped in blankets before a blazing fire in the parlour, with the pretty barmaid on her knees beside him sobbing piteously, as she chafed his temples with some strong essence.
“That's the time of day!” exclaimed Lawless, as his eye fell upon a printed card which the landlady had just thrust into his hand, headed, “The directions of the Humane Society for the restoration of persons apparently drowned”. “We shall have it now all right,” added he, and then read as follows: “The first observation we must make, which is most important, is, that rolling the body on a tub—”
“Bring a tub,” cried the landlady eagerly, and off started several of the by-standers to follow her injunctions—
“Is most injurious,” continued Lawless; “but holding up by the legs with the head downwards”—(a party of volunteers, commanded by the landlady, rushed forward to obtain possession of Coleman's legs)—“is certain death,” shouted Lawless, concluding the sentence.
While this was going on I had been rubbing Coleman's hands between my own, in the hope of restoring circulation; and now, to my extreme delight, I perceived a slight pulsation at the wrist; next came a deep sigh, followed by a tremulous motion of the limbs; and, before five minutes were over, he was sufficiently restored to sit up, and recognise those about him. After this, his recovery progressed with such rapidity that ere half an hour had elapsed he was able to listen with interest to Oaklands' account of the circumstances attending his rescue, when Lawless, hastily entering the room, exclaimed: “Here's a slice of good luck, at all events; there's a post-chaise just stopped, returning to Helmstone, and the boy agrees to take us all for a shilling a head, as soon as he has done watering his horses. How is Freddy getting on?—will he be able to go?”
“All right, old fellow,” replied Coleman. “Thanks to Fairlegh in the first instance, and a stiff glass of brandy-and-water in the second, 'Richard's himself again!'”