“What is it?” cried a firm voice from close at hand, and the captain strode up. “Ah! Mr Russell fainting. Let him go, Mr Vandean. I’ll drop him into this seat.”
The captain dragged a cane reclining-chair forward, and lowered the feeble man gently down.
“There, he will soon come to,” said the captain. “He is too weak to be on deck.”
“The sight of the men drowning upset him, sir.”
“Of course, Mr Vandean. It nearly upset me, who have not been ill. Not a pleasant sight to see our fellow-creatures losing their lives, and not to be able to help them. Come, Russell, man, this will not do.”
The lieutenant looked up at him wonderingly, as he unclosed his eyes.
“Are they saved!” he said, faintly.
“Thank God! Yes,” replied the captain; and just then a fresh cheer arose from the cutter, which was being pulled steadily back; the cheer was answered, and soon after the boat hung from the davits, and Bob cried up excitedly to Mark,—“I say, I saved him this time, old chap.”
Then followed a few stern words from the captain, strictly forbidding further fishing except by the older and more experienced hands.
Turning to the first lieutenant, he said in Mark’s hearing,—“Now comes the difficulty. How am I to punish this black for the knife business? He cannot understand a word that is said.”