“Oh, a-mussy me!” groaned the sailor. “Why aren’t it to-morrow morning and sun up? Can’t any of you see him?”
“No, no, no, no!” came back, almost as dismally as groans.
“Well, can’t you feel him, then?”
“No.”
“I am here, Joe—here!” panted the lad. “Higher up the river than you are. A big branch swept me out of the boat.”
“Ah, yes, we went under it,” groaned Joe. “Well, lads, he must be the other side of the tree. Here, where’s that there boat? Can any of you see it?”
“No; we are all on us in the tree?”
“Well, I don’t suppose you are swimming,” roared Cross savagely. “Do something, some on you! Thinking of nothing but saving your own blessed lives! Are you going to let the poor lad drown?”
“Here, coxswain, why don’t you tell us what to do?” snarled one of the men.
“How can I,” yelled Joe, “when I don’t know what to do mysen? Oh, don’t I wish that I had got the skipper here! I’d let him have it warm!”