“Why?”
“Mayhaps you could have saved the poor lad.”
“Saved whom?” asked the supercargo, suspecting at once that some harm had befallen Harry, but not dreaming of the extent of his misfortune.
“He fell overboard, or was thrown over, I can’t justly say which.”
“Whom do you mean?”
“Harry Raymond.”
“Good heavens! How long since?”
“An hour and a half, maybe.”
“And was nothing done to save him?”
“I threw a plank when I heard him cry for help.”