"Very good, sir."
"And what's this man's name?" asked my parent, indicating the gallant rescuer, who was being assisted down the companion.
"Lewis, sir; Bill Lewis."
"Capital fellow! Capital fellow!" exclaimed my father; and, having seen that the "Fortuna" once more lay on her proper course, he went down into the saloon, I following him.
The excitement of the last half-hour had driven away all feelings of sea-sickness, and, strangely enough, I felt no discomfort at being in the cabin. The rescued yachtsman was lying motionless on one of the berths, his body enveloped in blankets. I noticed that there was a clean cut on his cheek, extending from the right ear nearly to the chin, which had bled freely; and I also remarked that his hands, though hardened by manual labour, were well cared for. Apparently he had not swallowed much sea water, for he was sleeping soundly as if tired out with sheer exhaustion.
His rescuer, Lewis, was little the worse for his gallant efforts, and was sitting awkwardly in a deck chair as if out of place in the saloon of a yacht. He rose as my father entered the cabin, and shuffled with his feet in his embarrassment.
"I am proud of you, Lewis!" exclaimed my father, shaking him by the hand.
"'Twas nothing, sir."
"It was a gallant deed."
"May be, sir; but I didn't stop to think. If I did I mightn't have gone overboard."