"Stand by, bowmen, to haul in the lady!" called Mr. Gaskette, as the cutter approached the unhappy animal. "In bows!" and the two bowmen tossed their oars, and brought them down in place, the men springing into the fore-sheets to seize hold of the creature. "Way enough!"
It looked to those who were anxiously watching the operations of the men, fearful that Miss Mingo would become an orphan, as though the boat would strike Mrs. Mingo, and kill her by the collision.
"Stern all!" cried Mr. Gaskette with energy.
The order was obeyed, and the cutter came to a stop when near the animal. The bowmen were reaching to get hold of her, when she made a vigorous leap into the fore-sheets, grasping the rail as she did so. She shook herself with all her might as soon as she was in the boat, and a cheer went up from the deck of the ship. The lady then seated herself on the little platform in the bow, and seemed to be as happy as ever, and that was saying a great deal.
She made a vigorous leap into the fore-sheets.
"Give way!" said Mr. Gaskette, laughing at the apparent self-possession of Mrs. Mingo when her troubles were over. The cutter came alongside the ship under its davits, the falls were hooked on, and the boat was hoisted up. The lady was the first to leap from her place to the rail of the ship.
The passengers applauded as she moved aft; and she replied with her usual cry, and ended it with a squeak. She went directly to the promenade, which she mounted, and then hastened to Mrs. Belgrave's chair. She looked at her baby as though it had been overboard. Miss Mingo's keeper had taken care that the infant should not see her mother in the water; and the little one could not have told what was the matter if any one had asked her, first because she did not know, and second for an obvious reason.
The ship was going ahead again, and the captain came to the promenade. He took the lady into the sun, and persuaded her to lie down and dry herself. She seemed to understand the matter, and stretched herself out.