“Disappynted again, sir. I did think I was to have a go at Frenchy now.”
He hurried off; and the shrieking of the wind ceased for a few moments, during which we strained our ears to try and make out what went on below, when very faintly, but the word distinctly heard, came the cry—
“Help!”
“There is some one forward there by the bowsprit!” I cried excitedly; and leaving my companions, I crept to the bows, and, holding on tightly, climbed up and looked over, seeing nothing but the foaming water churned up by the ship as she plunged on and on, looking as if she were moment by moment going to split upon what might have been one huge black rock right ahead.
I changed my position, and got to the other side of the bowsprit to hold on and look over there, but still I could see nothing, and though I shouted again and again there was no reply.
“Nobody could possibly be hanging on there,” I thought, as I tried to pierce the mist of spray; and I felt that if low down on the stays, he would be dipped at every plunge, and drowned in a few minutes, and if higher, to a certainty, unless lashed to the ropes, be washed off.
I stayed some minutes, hailing again and again, with my voice carried forward by the wind, and then made my way back to my two companions, whose faces were turned inquiringly toward me as I shook my head.
“There can’t be any one there,” I said. “It’s impossible.”
“So Mr Brymer thought,” said Mr Preddle. “He said he would be either washed off or drowned, and that it must be one of the men below.”
“There it is again,” said Mr Denning; “and it is below.”