When the Sea Gives Up Its Dead: A Thrilling Detective Story

by Mrs. George Corbett

“Oh, how can you be so cruel?” exclaimed a bright, fair girl, of about Annie’s age. “It will be as bad as murder if you refuse to save the poor beast. Oh! listen.”

Again that long-drawn howl of despair escaped the distracted and suffering animal, as he saw that the distance between himself and an ark of safety was rapidly widening, and there were others who joined their entreaties once more to those of Miss Bywater.

But the captain’s resolve was adamantine, and loud murmurs of disapproval were heard on all sides, while many of the ladies could not refrain from crying, so powerfully was their pity and excitement aroused. Mr. Cory’s face was also twitching with sympathy, and his hands were clenched angrily, until the conduct of the dog put an idea into his head upon which he at once based his action.

Seeing that the steamer was leaving him to certain death, the brave beast flung himself into the water, determined upon making an effort to reach the vanishing asylum. Of course, the feat was hopeless, for, though he might have been a good swimmer, starvation had reduced him to such straits, that it was problematical if he would be able to swim twenty yards.

“Annie, I cannot stand this,” said Mr. Cory, hurriedly. “You mustn’t be alarmed at what I’m going to do. You know that few swimmers can beat me, and if I can save that dog, I mean to do it.”

The next moment he had thrown off his coat and waistcoat, and before anyone quite realised what he was about to do, he had dived into the water, and, with swift and powerful strokes, was making for the struggling dog. Instantly there was a tremendous commotion, and the cry of “Man overboard!” resounded from end to end of the mighty vessel, while orders to reverse the engines and to lower a boat were issued immediately. What was refused for the sake of a mere dog, dared not be denied to a man, and every effort was at once made to overtake the plucky swimmer, who was swiftly nearing the object he was striking for. A boat was manned and lowered with astonishing quickness, and amid the suppressed cries of some, and the encouraging shouts of others, the rowers bent to their work, and gave speedy promise of succour. What a race for life that was! And what a shout went up from the deck of the ocean racer when Mr. Cory was seen to reach the dog, which must have been at its last gasp when he seized it, for it was limp and motionless now. This was deemed a very fortunate thing by the spectators, some of whom had feared that the drowning animal’s struggles might impede the rescuer’s movements. A few minutes more, and the boat reached the plucky swimmer, who, together with the dog, was hauled in, amid the enthusiastic plaudits of the excited onlookers, many of whom, however, thought that help for the starving animal had come too late.

But Mr. Cory had no notion of giving up hope, and clung tenaciously to his prize, although assured that it was dead. And so it seemed for a time, but there were plenty of people willing to aid in completing the good work, and as much pains was bestowed upon the resuscitation of the insensible brute as if it had been a human being. When at last the poor thing opened its eyes, the joy on board the steamer was almost unanimous, and if the ship’s surgeon had not asserted his rights, it would have been forthwith killed with kindness, inasmuch as it would have been plied with food which its stomach was too weak to take.

Meanwhile, the vessel proceeded on her way, as soon as the boat was hoisted up, and Mr. Cory went to change his wet clothes for dry ones. When he came on deck again some time later he was rejoiced to find that the dog, which he forthwith christened “Briny,” was making steady progress towards recovery, and that he was already, after his own fashion, giving grateful acknowledgment of the attentions lavished upon him by Annie and the surgeon. He proved to be a large Newfoundland, and would, no doubt, soon recover his wonted size, strength, and beauty.

The only person who looked coldly on Mr. Cory after this exploit was the captain, who could not forgive the trick that had been played upon him, and who would not have deemed the lives of twenty dogs a sufficient equivalent for the loss of time spent in saving them.

Mrs. Colbrook was a middle-aged lady, the wife of an officer stationed at Malta. She had been in England to visit a daughter, and to see after a legacy which she had unexpectedly succeeded to. She and the Corys had fraternised from the beginning of the voyage, and as time passed she learned to respect them more and more.