Syd looked at him wildly, and saw him through the mist.
“Hurt?” he said, after making an effort to speak, and feeling deathly sick the while, “I—I don’t know.”
“Great heavens!” cried the lieutenant, “I would sooner it had been me. But I see no blood, bo’sun.”
“No, sir; I’ve been agoin’ over him,” growled Barney; “and he’s got all his arms, and legs, and, yes, his head’s all right. You see I shoved that oar in Jack’s mouth just as he turned over to grab him.”
“But the boy is half dead.”
“Ketched him a horful crack with his snout, I think it weer, sir; for, poor dear lad, he were knocked side wise. He’ll come round.”
All this time it was to Syd just as if the lieutenant and the boatswain were moving about over him in a mist; but as some water was splashed in his face, and his brows were bathed, the mist slowly passed away, and he suddenly struggled up into a sitting position.
“That’s better,” cried the lieutenant, eagerly. “Are you in pain?”
“Shoulder hurts a little, sir,” said Syd, huskily; “but where’s the shark?”
“Yonder, sir,” said the boatswain, pointing to about fifty yards away, where a something that looked like a thick miniature lateen sail was gliding through the water.