“Go back, every one of you!” shouted Bob. “Come one at a time, and I will save you all!”
“Bring that boat up closer!” cried several voices in concert.
“I’ll not come an inch nearer until you all go back!” yelled Bob, in reply. “Let the women and children get in first. I can take them ashore and come back in time to save the rest of you. Why don’t you stop shouting, and pushing, and listen to what I am saying to you?” screamed Bob, who saw that not the least attention was paid to his words. “Go back, I say!”
But he might as well have appealed to so many stumps or rocks. His arguments would have made just as much impression upon them. While he was talking he gave a stroke or two with his oars, now and then, to keep the yawl from drifting down the stream, and once in his excitement he sent the bow of his craft altogether too close to the steamer for safety. He saw his mistake on the instant, but it was too late to correct it, for his boat was half full of men and women before he had time to think twice. They jumped in on top of one another; those who fell into the water and were able to reach the gunwales began to climb in over the sides, and Bob was borne down, and held, as though a mountain had fallen on him. He struggled desperately to free himself, for something told him that the boat was sinking. Feeling himself relieved, for one instant, of the immense weight that held him down, he managed to get upon his feet, and, catching up an oar, sprang overboard just as the water began to pour in over the sides of the yawl. Remembering Mr. Scanlan’s words of warning, he struck out vigorously to put a safe distance between himself and the drowning people, and was frightened almost out of his senses when he saw a powerful man spring out of the yawl, and make the most strenuous efforts to seize him. As quick as thought, Bob thrust the blade of his oar into the outstretched hands which closed upon it with a grasp of iron.
“Don’t desert me, boy,” cried the man. “Save me and I will make you rich!”
“I’ll do the best I can for you,” replied Bob, “but listen to me, now, and don’t try to take hold of me,” he added, quickly, seeing that the man was coming hand over hand toward his end of the oar. “Go back, or I will leave you to take care of yourself.”
“This oar won’t hold me up,” exclaimed the man, who, frightened as he was, could hear and understand every word Bob said to him.
“Yes, it will. A chip as large as your hand placed under your chin will enable you to keep your head above water. Take hold of the blade and keep yourself off at arm’s length and I will tow you ashore.”
The man did not pay as much attention to his directions as the cub pilot had done, for he continued to work his way toward Bob’s end of the oar, and finally reached out his hand to lay hold of his collar; but Bob was too quick for him. He went down like a piece of lead and came up at the other end of the oar.
“Go back where you belong,” he shouted, as the man turned about and came toward him again. “I don’t want to desert you, but if you don’t keep away from me I shall be obliged to do so.”