And John leaned over the side of the boat till his face touched that of the piteous little seal.
At that moment the boat—which for the last few minutes had been allowed to drift at the mercy of the tide, owing to John's pre-occupation—was caught among the irregular currents near a skerry, and John was suddenly jerked, or tilted, overboard, plunging into the waters with a sullen splash.
When he rose to the surface, with a deadly chill in him—the chill of his drear and imminent doom, even more than the grueing chill of the water—his first thought, even in that perilous moment, was of dear little Silas and the promise he had given to him, or, at least, the promise he had given to the seal.
The quaint little creature was, however, nowhere visible; and John, with a sudden influx of strength—an alarmed awakening and resurgence of his will—made up his mind to save his life if it were possible, and quietly leave the settlement of the other affair to God.
But grey old Fate was stronger than he was. And the waves were here her obedient servants; doing her will blindly, without pity or remorse.
In a little while John was tossing among the seaweed—into a bed of which his body had descended—and what further dreams (if any) he dreamed there beneath the waters, must remain untold till the Judgment Day.
FOOTNOTES:
[L] Little bit.
[M] A cave.