The easing away of one package was enough now, and as the light was held, the legs of the prisoner were seen, and he was carefully drawn out. A rope was placed round his chest, and he was hauled out of the great chasm and hoisted carefully on deck, followed by the whole crew of workers, who formed a circle about him, as the first-mate went down on one knee and trickled a little brandy between his teeth.
“Shall I send one of the lads for a doctor?” said Mr Morgan.
“Wait a minute,” was the first-mate’s answer. “He was not suffocating, as you can see. It was sheer fright, I think. He’ll come round in a few minutes out here in the fresh air.”
The second-mate held down the light, and as Mark, for whom room had been made, gazed down in the ghastly face of the shabby-looking man, Bruff pushed his head forward and sniffed at him.
“Yes, that’s him, old fellow,” said the mate patting his head. “You are a good dog, then.”
Bruff whined, and just then the prostrate stowaway moved slightly.
“There, he’s coming to; give him a little more brandy, Gregory,” said the second-mate.
“Not a drop,” cried the other fiercely. “Yes, he’s coming round now. I think I’ll finish off with the rope’s end—a scoundrel!”
A minute before, in spite of his rough ways, Mark had begun to feel somewhat of a liking for the first-mate, especially as he had taken to the dog; but now all this was swept away.
“Oh, yes, he’s coming to,” said Mr Gregory, as the man’s eyelids were seen to tremble in the light of the lanthorn, and then open widely in a vacant stare.