He used to come out of the after turret and look out on the sea, when maybe he'd finished up his work for the afternoon. He was there one afternoon late; and we were in the China Sea, a division of us, bound up to Cheefoo for a liberty. A monsoon was blowing, and there we were, pitching into it, taking plenty of water over ourselves forward, but so far very little aft.
Meagher was in rain-coat and rubber boots, leaning against a gypsy-head, when this big sea rolled up over our quarter-deck. She had a low quarter, our ship, and the solid water of this sea rolled turret-high. When it had passed on, Meagher and four others were gone.
I was in the lee of the superstructure. I ran onto her quarter-deck. I saw an officer's cap and took a running high jump over the rail. While I was still in the air I said to myself: "You're gone! Her starb'd propeller will get you—you're gone! ...
"And if I am, what of it?" I recalled later saying to myself; but before my head was fairly under I was kicking out hard from the ship's side.
Meagher was the only man of the five to come up. When I saw him he was struggling to unhook the metal clasps of his rain-coat. I reached him and kicked out for the life-buoy that the marine sentry had heaved over. We made the buoy and I shoved him up on it—he still trying to clear himself of his heavy rain-coat.
"I kicked off my rubber boots right away, but the buckles of this thing they don't come so easy." That was Meagher's first word, and—heavy-spoken because of weariness—he said it by way of apology for causing so much trouble. "But I'd never got clear in time—you saved me from going, that's sure." Not till then did he have a chance to look at me. When he saw who it was he went quiet.
"You're surprised, Jack Meagher?" I said.
"Yes," he said.
"You doubted my courage, maybe?" I asked.