“I do, my lad,” replied the lieutenant, but he stopped short and looked at his young companion.
“I will not mind,” said Mark. “I’ll try and hold the poor fellow up, and set Joe Dance free.”
Without waiting to be ordered, Mark drew a deep breath, edged himself right astern to where the coxswain held on to the keel with one hand and grasped the black’s wrist with the other.
“Go and take my place,” he said; and making an effort over self, he searched for and found one of the little fenders suspended from the boat’s side, took a firm hold, and then stretched out his right hand to grasp the black’s wrist.
“Mean it, sir?” said the man.
“Yes,” replied Mark, huskily. “Go and help.”
The next minute the lad hung there in the water, with his face kept toward the boat, and his hand retaining that which he could not muster up sufficient courage to turn and gaze at, as it lay calm and stern, looking upward toward the peaceful moonlit skies.
Then began a sturdy effort to right the boat, and Mark’s position grew irksome in the extreme, for at every struggle to drag the keel down toward them, the midshipman was drawn lower, and he felt that if his companions in misfortune succeeded in righting the boat, he would have to let go and try to keep himself afloat for a time.
But in spite of try after try, the boat remained stubbornly bottom upward, and at last, worn out by their exertions, all ceased their efforts, and rested half on the keel which offered a tempting halting place for those who liked to climb upon it, and sit astride.
Just then Dance the coxswain made his way to Mark, and without a word seized the wrist of the black, and in a low growl bade the young officer rest.