Fortunately for her the master of the fishing schooner was at the time standing on his quarterdeck by the wheel, squinting through his glass at the liner and envying the ease and comfort of those on board her. The mate, sitting on the steps and smoking his turning-in pipe, saw the master lean forward suddenly, lower the glass, then raise it again.
"Lord A'mighty!"
"What's the matter, Cap'n?"
"Jake, in God's name, come 'ere an' take a peek through this glass. I'm dreamin'!"
The mate jumped and took the glass. "Where away, sir?"
"A p'int off th' sta'board bow. See somethin' white bobbin' up?"
"Yessir! Looks like some one dropped a bolster 'r a piller overboard.... Cod's whiskers!" he broke off.
"Then I ain't really seein' things," cried the master. "Hi, y' lubbers," he yelled to the crew; "lower th' dory. They's a woman in th' water out there. I seen her leap th' rail. Look alive! Sharp's th' word! Mate, you go 'long."
The crew dropped their tasks and sprang for the davits, and the starboard dory was lowered in ship shape style.
It takes a good bit of seamanship to haul a body out of the sea, into a dancing, bobtailed dory, when one moment it is climbing frantically heavenward and the next heading for the bottomless pit. They were very tender with her. They laid her out in the bottom of the boat, with the life buoy as a pillow, and pulled energetically for the schooner. She was alive, because she breathed; but she did not stir so much as an eyelid. It was a stiff bit of work, too, to land her aboard without adding to her injuries. The master ordered the men to put her in his own bunk, where he nearly strangled her by forcing raw brandy down her throat.