“It is, sir, an’ I’m right glad to ’ear your voice. Cetch a tight ’old, sir; it’s big enough for two.”
“What is it?” I asked.
“One of the ’en-coops,” said Lancey.
“It’s too small for two, I fear,” said I, seizing hold of it.
“Hall right, sir; it’ll ’old us both. I can swim.”
Clinging to our frail support we were hurried by the rapid current we knew not whither, for, although the moon was in the sky, it was so covered with black clouds that we could not see whether we were being swept towards the shore or into the middle of the stream. Besides this, the wind was driving the rain and dashing the water into our eyes continuously.
“Lancey,” I gasped, “it is u–useless to let ourselves be—swe—swept about at the will of chance currents. The river is very wi-wide. Let us place ourselves side by side—and—strike—out—in—the—same—d’rection. Uniformity of action—necessary—in desp’r’t situations!”
Lancey at once acted on my suggestion, gasping that, “Haction of—of—hany kind would tend to—to—k–p limbs warm.”
We proceeded in silence for some minutes, when I observed the masts and rigging of several vessels drawn faintly against the dark sky. They were considerably to our right, and the current was evidently bearing us away from them.
“A strong effort now, Lancey,” said I, “and we may reach them.”