Neither seeing nor hearing anything, the man rose from his knees and was about to close the trap-door, when I made another effort, and, thank God, a faint cry burst from my parched throat.
The man paused, then sprang upon the wheel, picked me up in his arms, and I fainted dead away!
After what seemed a long time, although, as I was told, it was but a few minutes, I recovered consciousness to find myself stretched out on a mattress, covered with a blanket, and surrounded by a number of kind-hearted women. The passengers had seen the boat upset and noticed my sudden disappearance. Charlie, who could swim like a fish, was picked up, and declared that I was drowned. Indeed, he “saw me go down and never come up again.”
By the merest chance the captain had not started the steamer ahead. If that had been done I should, of course, have been killed.
My clothes were soon dried in the engine-room, the dingey and her oars had been recovered, a generous bag of fruit and cake was packed for me by the sympathetic ladies, and we returned to the Bombay.
As I came up over the side, Mr. Bowker greeted me with, “Where have you been all this time, Bob?”
I explained to him my narrow escape from a dreadful death, to which he cheerfully responded:—
“Well, Bob, you certainly were not born to be drowned; look sharp to it, lad, that you do live to be hanged!”