"I'm here, Terry, holding on for dear life. Where are you yourself?"
Before Terry could answer there was a flashing of lights above, and eager hands were stretched out holding ropes with a bight at the end, one of which Terry caught, while another was grasped by the captain, and presently they were both drawn up to the deck amid the cheers of a crowd of sailors anxiously watching the operation.
Not only so, but in like manner two of the sailors were found clinging to the bowsprit rigging. The other two, unhappily, were in the forecastle at the time of the collision, and before they could reach the deck their chance was gone, and the poor fellows had been drawn down to death with the ill-fated schooner.
As soon as Captain Afleck had got his feet firmly on the deck, he looked about at the circle of smiling sailors, and with as cheerful an expression as though being run down were quite a common experience, he exclaimed,—
"Well, you did me up on short notice; and serve me well right too, I suppose, for not having my lights up. But who may you be, and where away?"
A jaunty little midshipman who had just pressed his way through the crowd responded at once,—
"We're the United States war-ship Minnesota, and we're extremely sorry we ran you down; but you had no lights out, you know, and we didn't see you until we were right upon you. Are you all safe? I'm sure I hope so."
Captain Afleck looked round about him, and then, with a sorrowful shake of his head, replied,—
"We're all here but two. Joe and Alec were in the foc'sle when you struck us, and I guess they hadn't time to get out. Poor chaps! it's a mean way to die, ain't it?—like rats in a hole."
The look of importance on the middy's face changed to one of genuine concern at this, and with a courteous bow he said,—