“Now, sir, quick,” he said; “boat’s just off. What! not ready?”
“It is impossible to move him, my man,” said the doctor in sombre tones.
“It’s murder to keep him here, sir,” cried the old sailor. “Come on—for your life!”
As he spoke he caught Carey in his arms before the doctor could interfere, dashed open the door, and quickly carried the insensible lad up to the sea-washed deck, to stand aghast and then hold on for his life.
For something white and ghastly, fringed with phosphorescent light, seemed to rise over the ship’s side, curve down over, glide under the barge lying in its chocks, and then lift the laden boat away over the open side.
It was seen for a few moments and then disappeared, going in one swift glide away into the darkness, leaving the doctor, his patient, and the old sailor amidst the hissing waters alone upon the deck.
Chapter Four.
“Here’s another coming,” roared Bostock, hoarsely. “Back into shelter, or we shall be swept away.”