“He’s overboard! God have mercy on us!” cried Brother Bart, roused from his third Glorious Mystery of the Rosary.
“Didn’t I tell you to duck, ye rascal?” roared Captain Jeb, to whom a tumble like this seemed only a boy’s fool trick. “Back aboard with ye, ye young fool! Back—aboard! Don’t ye know there’s sharks about in these waters? Lord, ef he ain’t gone down!”
“He can’t—can’t swim!” And Jim, who had started up half awake and who could swim like a duck, was just about to plunge after Dud, when he caught the word that chilled even his young blood to ice—sharks! Jim knew what sharks meant. He had seen a big colored man in his own Southern waters do battle with one, and had sickened at the memory ever since.
“A rope,—a rope!” thundered Captain Jeb, whose right leg had been stiffened for all swimming in deep waters ten years ago. “If he goes down again, it’s forever.”
“O God have mercy! God have mercy!” prayed Brother Bart, helplessly; while Freddy shrieked in shrill alarm.
In that first wild moment of outcry Dan had stood breathless while a tide of feeling swept over him that held him mute, motionless. Dud! It was Dud who had been swept over into those foaming, seething depths. Dud, whose stinging words were still rankling in his thoughts and heart; Dud, who hated, scorned, despised him; Dud who could not swim, and—and there were sharks,—sharks!
Dan was trembling now in every strong limb,—trembling, it seemed to him, in body and soul. Sharks! Sharks! And it was Dud.—Dud who had said Dan was fit only to black his boots!
“O God have mercy! Mother Mary—Mother Mary save him!” prayed Brother Bart.
At the words Dan steadied,—steadied to the beacon light,—steadied into Aunt Winnie’s boy again.
“Don’t scare, Brother Bart!” rang out his clear young voice. “I’ll get him.”