“Cheerful sort of prisoners to make. If we go close in, some of us will get knifed.”
“You can’t go close,” I said.
“If I don’t they’ll drown,” he cried; “and the captain will ask me what I’ve been about.”
“Hadn’t you better let the jollies put ’em out of their misery, Mr Grey, sir?” cried one of the men. “They arn’t fit to live.”
“No,” cried another fiercely. “They arn’t men; they’re tigers.”
“Silence!” said the officer sternly. “There is a man yonder about to sink; give way,” he cried.
This man had left a barrel, to which he had vainly tried to cling, but it kept on turning round; and at last, in his despair, he had left it to try and swim to the nearest rocks.
His strength was failing, though, and he began to paddle like a dog, too much frightened to try and swim.
A few strokes of the oar took us within reach, and this time the coxswain succeeded in hooking his loose cotton jacket, and drawing him to the side.
Hands seized him directly, and he was hauled in to lie down trembling, and looking wildly from one to the other.