“And what business had he up on the hammock-rail?” roared the lieutenant as he climbed up there himself. “Steady, my lads, he can’t be far.”
At that moment there was a flash, and a brilliant blue-light burst out on the surface of the black water, sending a glare all round from where it floated on the trigger life-buoy, which had been detached and glided away astern, while directly after a second blue-light blazed out from the stern of the boat, showing the men dipping their oars lightly, and two forward and two astern shading their eyes and scanning the flashing and sparkling water.
“Can’t you see him?” roared the lieutenant.
“No, sir.”
We leaped downward, hurried right aft where the captain and the other officers were now gathered, and the orders were given for a second boat to be lowered and help to save the poor fellow.
“He ought to float, sir,” said Mr Reardon in answer to some remark from the captain. “He’s fat enough.”
Then he began shouting orders to the men to row to and fro; and my heart sank as I vainly searched the lit-up water, for there was no sign of the unfortunate Chinaman.
“What a horrible ending to a practical joke!” I thought, and a bitter feeling of disappointment assailed me, as I asked myself why I had not gone in the second boat to help save the poor fellow.
Perhaps it was vanity, but in those exciting moments I felt that if I had been there I might have seen him, for it never occurred to me that I had a far better chance of seeing him from my post of vantage high up on that quarter-deck rail.
“See him yet?”