Instead of doing any of these things, the impulsive negro, who was still a young and active man though very fond of calling himself “old,” slid down into the dory, cut the line by which she was towing, and seized a pair of oars. He had done all this as silently as Breeze had tumbled overboard, and without making a single outcry to alarm the two sleepers left on board the brig.
The instant he had cut the line and found himself adrift he realized the folly of his act, and began to shout at the top of his voice, in the hope that it was not yet too late to arouse Captain McCloud and Wolfe. At the same time he began to pull wildly after the swiftly moving brig. He quickly realized that this was of no use, for she was moving three feet to his one, nor did his shouts bring any response from those on board. In spite of his excitement, a certain instinct told him that, so long as he could not catch the brig, the only thing remaining for him to do was to face about and try to find Breeze.
His movements had been so quick that he was at no great distance from where the boy had struck the water, and was now swimming in the direction of the vanishing brig. He, at least, heard the cries uttered by Nimbus, and answered them. He had retained his presence of mind wonderfully, and now realized that somebody was searching for him. So he swam as easily as possible, but continued to shout at regular intervals; and in about five minutes he had the satisfaction of seeing the dory loom out of the darkness close beside him. In another minute he had caught hold of its gunwale, and been drawn in, dripping and chilled, but very thankful for this escape from what had seemed a hopeless situation. His first glance was towards the brig, but he could not see even a shadow resembling her. She had disappeared in the darkness as utterly as though she had never existed.
“They must have put her about and headed her this way by this time,” he said to Nimbus. “I wonder that we don’t see her.”
“No, sah; dey don’ put um ’bout. Dey sailin’ away, an’ nebber know nuffin. Ole fool Nim nebber tell ’em good-by. Come off an’ keep on sayin’ nuffin at all to nobody.”
“You don’t mean to say, Nimbus, that you left without giving any alarm! without waking my father or Wolfe!”
“Yes, sah,” answered the black man in a most crestfallen tone. “Didn’t wake nobody. Didn’t t’ink ob nuffin scusin’ how to sabe young cap’n. Jump quick in boat, cut um ’drif, an’ come. Bimeby catch um, pull um in. Here he is! Here we is!”
“Yes, that’s certain enough, ‘here we is,’ and how we’re going to get out of this scrape it would puzzle a sea lawyer to tell. I suppose you did the best thing you could think of. If you’d only given an alarm, though! Now, with the wheel lashed, the brig may sail on for hours, always getting farther and farther away from us, before either of them wakes up. Well, we’re not dead yet, and while there’s life there’s hope. I’m very grateful to you, at any rate, for coming to me so quickly. Now, perhaps you can do me another good turn by telling me how to keep from freezing to death in these wet clothes.”
Yes, indeed, Nimbus could do that, and in a minute more Breeze had stripped off his soaked garments, slipped into his oil-skin jacket and trousers, which had fortunately been left in the dory, and was rapidly getting warm by hard work at the oars. At the same time Nimbus, with powerful hands, was wringing the wet clothing as dry as though it were in a centrifugal steam-wringer. Of course the things were still damp and cold when Breeze again put them on; but, with his oil-skins drawn over them to keep out the wind, and still keeping up his exercise with the oars, he was soon in a glow.
As he rowed he instinctively kept the dory headed on the same course the brig had taken, by holding her broadside to the wind, which still blew steadily from the southward.