"They're coming back. Only the woman—only the woman out o' the whole crowd."
"They'd better hurry up," responded Riley. "What's that over to the nor'ard?"
"Nothing but a tramp," said Jenkins, at length. "But we don't want to be interviewed. Bear a hand, you fellows," he shouted. "Is the woman dead?"
"No—guess not," came the answer, through the small deadlight. "Fainted away since we picked her up. Burned or scalded, somewhat."
CHAPTER VI
Denman saw the boat for a moment or two as it came alongside, and noticed the still form of the woman in the stern sheets, her face hidden by a black silk neckerchief. Then he could only know by the voices that they were lifting her aboard and aft to the captain's quarters. But he was somewhat surprised to see the door that led to these quarters opened by Jenkins, who beckoned him.
"We've picked up a poor woman, sir," he said, "and put her in here. Now, we're too busy on deck to 'tend to her, Mr. Denman, and then—we don't know how; but—well, you're an educated man, and a gentleman. Would you mind? I've chased the bunch out, and I won't let 'em bother you. It's just an extension of your cruising radius."
"Certainly," said Denman. "I'll do what I can for her."
"All right, sir. I'll leave this door open, but I must lock the after companion."
He went on deck by the wardroom stairs, while Denman passed through to the woman. She lay on a transom, dripping water from her clothing to the carpet, and with the black cloth still over her face; but, on hearing his footsteps, she removed it, showing a countenance puffed and crimson from the scalding of the live steam that had blown her overboard. Then, groaning pitifully, she sat up, and looked at him through swollen eyelids.