CHAPTER VIII.—“LAND, HO!”
It was a fight every inch of the way, but at last they reached the bow and found the sailors bending over the recumbent form of a youth.
“What has happened? What did we strike?” asked Jack of one of the sailors.
“Struck a small boat,” was the reply. “How it ever lived in this sea is a wonder. This fellow was in it.”
“Is he all right?”
“No; about half dead,” rejoined the third mate. “Carry him aft, men, and put him in one of the spare cabins. With care he may pull through. I’m going to notify the captain,” and he hurried off.
Several men picked up the form of the rescued one. Jack suddenly saw his face, pale as death, with his wet hair hanging over his forehead.
“Great guns, Billy!” he gasped.
“What is it? What’s the matter? Do you know him?” queried Raynor.