“Oh, God help me!” he moaned; “what a miserable death to die! Harry! Harry! Harry!” he cried distractedly, “come and help me; I am here below drowning! Help! help!”
There was no reply.
But a sound that he had heard before without attaching much importance to it now forced itself upon his attention; it was the swishing of water; and, looking over the edge of his bunk he saw that water was already rising fast over the floor of the cabin. Desperation now lent him strength, and, pulling himself together with a violent effort, he slowly and painfully rose upright and put his legs over the edge of the berth. He felt incapable of making any further effort for the moment.
Then once more he raised his voice and shouted for help, and this time he fancied that far away in the distance he heard a reply. He shouted again and again; then paused, listening.
The answering voice sounded a little nearer.
At that moment the ship gave another roll, and to Roger it seemed as though she must founder immediately.
There was another sickening lurch, and Roger, convinced that the end had come, went tumbling off the edge of his bunk, and fell flat on his face in about two feet of water which was washing over the cabin floor. The shock of the fall displaced his bandages; his wound began to bleed afresh; and, confused as he still was, the idea took possession of him that he was in danger of bleeding to death.
Would nobody ever come to take him out of this awful hole? “Help, help, I am drowning!” he shouted.
But this time there was no answering voice.
Then Roger once more pulled himself together and began to crawl over the floor, the water splashing round and over him. Inch by inch he neared the door, and then he heard a call, so near that it startled him.