“Short of boats, sir!” repeated the first mate ironically as he set to work at once, with the help of a couple of the hands who jumped to his side to assist him the moment he spoke, casting off the lashings of the davits so as to rig them outwards, letting go at the same time the hooks of the fall blocks and overhauling the running gear. “Why, sir, we haven’t even the dinghy left intact after that clean sweep we had from the wave that pooped us!”
“Oh, aye, I know that well enough,” said the skipper drily. “But, look alive now, Fosset, with that tackle, and don’t be a month of Sundays over the job! Send down two of the cutter’s crew to overrun the falls and drop down into the boat. They can help Haldane in holding up that poor chap astern and also bear a hand in hoisting up.”
“All right, sir; we’re just ready,” shouted back the first mate as he gave the word to let go. “Lower away there with the slack of those falls. Easy, my man, gently does it!”
In another instant down came the fall blocks, with one of the hands hanging on to each, the men alighting “gingerly” on the thwarts of the boat in the bow and stern of the little craft, which became immersed almost up to the gunwales with the additional weight.
This was only for a moment, for the next minute Mr Fosset gave the signal to “hoist away,” the falls having been hooked on beneath the thwarts in a jiffey, and up we all went in mid air, “between the devil and the deep sea,” as we say afloat sometimes!
“Bravo!” cried the skipper when we reached the level of the gangway and were all able to step out on to the deck. “That’s very handsomely done, my lads! Now let us see about lifting the poor fellows out. That chap there in the bows seems in a very bad way! You’d better carry him into the cuddy at once and let Mr O’Neil look after him.”
“Indade, I will, sor,” said our doctor-mate, who was standing near by with a spirit flask in one hand and a medicine glass in the other, ready to give immediate succour to the rescued men. “Carry the poor beggar along an’ I’ll be afther ye in a minnit; for this other misfortunate gossoon here looks as if he wouldn’t be the worst for a dhrop of good brandy, an’ faith, I’ll say to him fourst, avic!”
So saying the Irishman poured some of the contents of the spirit flask into the glass, which he held to the lips of the man. Mr Fosset and I were supporting him in our arms against the side of the boat, whence we had just removed him.
The poor fellow’s strength returned to him almost as soon as he had sipped a drop or two of the brandy, and, starting away from the first mate and myself, as if no longer needing our aid, he stood erect on the deck.
“Mil gracias, amigos,” he said, with a polite inclination of his head, in apology like for shaking himself free from us. “Estoy major!”