This was to one of the sailors who had reached a straw hat and clapped it upon his head as he swam, but the same man recovered one of the oars and brought it alongside.
“Any one seen my hitcher?” shouted the coxswain from where he hung on, supporting the black.
“No.”
“Yes,” came from Mark, who pointed; “there it is, standing up like a great quill float. See it?”
“Yes, sir, I see it,” cried a sailor; and he swam off towards the white-looking pole, while others sought for and recovered the whole of the oars, which floated a short distance away, the men having gained a little more confidence, and freely quitting their hold of the boat, as it slowly rose and fell in the midst of the smooth, heaving sea.
Mark had done nothing but hold on to the keel and try to direct the men, as they swam here and there, giving a longing glance, though, from time to time at the distant Nautilus, whose white sails gleamed in the moonlight. Now, as the crew resumed their places, and tried to keep the oars and boathook alongside the keel, he turned to the lieutenant.
“What are you going to do about—about that?” he whispered.
“Get the poor creature on board—if we can,” was the reply; and the young midshipman could not help shuddering. “It is what we were sent to do, Vandean,” continued the officer, “and we must do our duty. Now, my lads,” he cried, “all of you over here, and let’s right the boat.”
The men opposite swam round, and, the oars being left floating, an effort was made to drag the boat over, all hanging on the keel. But, in spite of effort after effort, she refused to right, and Mr Russell gave the word to rest for a few minutes, and collect the floating oars, which were getting scattered once more.
This being done, Mark turned to his officer, and said in a low voice,—“You want the coxswain to help?”