“Yes,” I said, and at that moment, supporting the poor fellow below the arms, Mr Frewen and the mate helped Mr Denning into the cabin, panting heavily even from that little exertion.
“I’ll be—as quick—as I can,” he sighed. “There is no hurry,” said Mr Brymer, quietly; “we have a wall of fire between us and our enemies.”
“Go on heaving down that there prog, Barney,” whispered Bob from behind his hand. “I don’t hold with running short out in a hopen boat.”
Barney grunted, and while Bob passed the rope round Mr Denning so that he could sit in the bight, and then made a hitch round his breast so as to secure him in case his weak hold with his hands gave way, the sailor kept various articles of food in tins flying down to Neb Dumlow, who caught them deftly and stowed them rapidly forward in the bottom of the boat.
The next minute Mr Denning was tenderly lifted by Bob Hampton and Mr Frewen, and his legs were passed out from the window, the rope was tightened, then he swung to and fro, and a minute later Dumlow had left the catching and stowing to cast off the rope which was now left hanging, so as to afford us a ready means of retreat in case it should be necessary.
With the help of Mr Preddle and the sailor, Mr Denning was soon lying back in the stern, and now the mate leaned out to give a few directions to Dumlow.
“Have you got that painter fast to the ring-bolt so that you can cast off directly?”
“Ay, ay, sir. Hear the pumps going?”
“Yes; go on stowing the stores sent down as well as you can. Mr Preddle will help you.”
“There, doctor,” he said the next minute, “now we can cast off at a moment’s notice if there’s danger.”