“There isn’t the slightest danger of his drowning. It will take him some time to reach the shore, for he’s not swimming directly toward it; but he’ll come out all right, and it won’t do him the least harm.”
“An’ jest as soon as I get ashore I’ll run round an’ call him in, an’ bring him to you,” said Bobby, anxious to do something toward saving the life of an animal as valuable as he believed Tip to be.
The dog was yet some distance from the shore when the boat was made fast to the wharf, and Bobby rushed on shore, going toward the point where Tip must land, wholly regardless of his parents, who were waiting to greet him.
Tim started to follow him, bent on saving his pet and forgetting that there was such a person in the world as Captain Pratt, when he felt a heavy hand laid on his shoulder.
“I thought I told you to go below!” said an angry voice, and, looking up, Tim saw it was the captain who was detaining him. “If you so much as make a motion to go on shore I’ll whip you within an inch of your life!”
Then, without giving him an opportunity to disobey, the same heavy hand pushed him back on the deck, and Mr. Rankin led him forcibly below.
“I won’t stay here! I won’t go down-stairs an’ leave Tip there to drown!” cried Tim, passionately. “It’s awful wicked, an’ I won’t do it!”
“Listen to me, Tim,” said Mr. Rankin, kindly but firmly. “There is no possible chance that your dog will drown, and you must come below, for it is the captain’s orders.”
“But I must go an’ get him,” wailed Tim.
“Suppose you could get him before we leave the dock, which you can’t, and suppose you should get him aboard without the captain’s seeing you, which is an impossibility, what would be the result? Captain Pratt would throw him overboard after we got out to sea again, and then he would be sure to drown.”