“I’m afraid my time’s most up,” replied he, faintly.
“Where are you hit?”
“In the face; the ball went through my head, I suppose,” he added, in tones that were hardly audible, in the warring of the December blast.
“Keep up a good heart, Fred, and we will soon be ashore. Have you got an easy place?”
“No, the water dashes over me.”
“Can’t you move him aft, Hapgood?”
“Pretty soon; when I get these fellows fixed,” replied the veteran, who had cut the rope nearest to his hands, and was securing the arms of the prisoners behind them.
“There is no fear of them now. We have got two revolvers apiece, and we can have it all our own way, if they show fight.”
But Hapgood had bound the rebels by this time, and with tender care he lifted his wounded companion down into the standing room, and made him as comfortable as the circumstances would permit.
“Now, where are we, Hapgood?” asked Tom, who had been vainly peering ahead to discover some familiar object by which to steer. I can’t see the first thing.”