“That’s what I am doing, sir,” replied Mark, “but I can’t see anything.”
“He’s floating, perhaps. Pull away, my lads. Steady; we don’t want to pass him.”
There was a few minutes’ silence.
“See him now, Mr Vandean?” said the lieutenant again, and Mark was silent for a few moments, as he scanned the surface round from beneath his hand.
“No, sir, no sign of him.”
“Oh, don’t say that, my lad. Look, look. We mustn’t miss the poor fellow. Strikes me that we’re going to pick up the whole cargo this way. Now then, wasn’t that a splash yonder?”
“No, sir, I can’t see anything,” said Mark sadly; and as he still eagerly scanned the surface amidst a breathless silence, only broken by the flapping of the water against the bows of the boat, it again struck Mark with a chill of awe that they were being left alone there; and he asked himself what would happen if the Nautilus could not find them again.
This was momentary, for his attention was taken up by his search, and the officer said again, in angry impatience now,—“Come, Mr Vandean, where’s this poor fellow? Here, lie to, my lads.”
The men ceased rowing, and sat with their oars balanced, looking out on either side for some sign of the man overboard but there was none, and Mark heaved a deep sigh.
“Yes,” said the lieutenant, as if that sigh were in words; “it’s a bad case, my lad. I am afraid he’s gone, poor fellow.”