I saw Jarette bend down to the moaning man, for two of the crew held lanterns over him; and then, as they were all crowding down the hatchway, I hurried into the cabin, closed the door after me, and going to the window, I leaned out, and called in a whisper to Mr Brymer, but there was no answer.
I called again and again, raising my voice till, had any one been on deck, there must have been an alarm raised; but still there was no reply from the boat, and feeling at last that my companions must have rowed along by the ship to try and find out what was the matter, I was about to go back and run along till I could hail them and implore the doctor to come on board to try and save the poor wretch’s life, when, all at once, there was the faint splash of an oar, and Mr Brymer exclaimed—
“Ah, at last! I was afraid you were being hunted. What were they doing? What was the meaning of those cries, and the torches they were rushing about the deck with?”
I explained in few words, and, saying I would fetch a rope, implored Mr Frewen to come up and help the poor creature.
“Come? Of course I will, Dale,” he said; “but it seems curious work to do—help the men who have sent us adrift on the ocean in an open boat.”
“Yes,” I cried excitedly; “but wait while I get a rope.”
“Yes; quick, my lad,” said Mr Brymer. “It is our only opportunity.”
I made no attempt now at concealment, but ran through the saloon, and out on the deck, to secure the first coil of rope I could find.
I got hold of one directly, not neatly coiled, but tumbled down anyhow; and then, looking forward to see if any one was on deck, I was conscious of a dull bluish glow, which I attributed to the lights by the forecastle-hatch, from which I could hear a low muttering of voices dominated by Jarette’s sharp angry snapping.
Then grasping the fact that there appeared to be no one on deck, I ran back into the dark saloon, tapped smartly on the door of Miss Denning’s cabin, cried, “Help coming!” and darted through the door, closing it after me.