The fishermen assisted him, some hopefully, some doubtfully, a few with looks of disbelief in the process. The youth persevered, however, with unflagging patience, well knowing that half-drowned people have been restored after nearly an hour of labour.
“Who is he?” inquired one fisherman of another, referring to the stranger.
“Don’t you know him, mate?” asked the other in surprise.
“No, I’ve just come ashore, you know.”
“That’s Mr Dalton, the young banker, as takes such a lift o’ the temp’rance coffee-taverns an’ Blue-Ribbon movement.”
“He’s comin’-to, sir!” exclaimed a voice eagerly.
This had reference to little Billy, whose eyelids had been seen to quiver, and who presently heaved a sigh.
“Fetch my coat,” said Dalton. “He will indeed be restored, thank God.”
The big ulster was brought. Billy was carefully wrapped up in it, and one of the stoutest among his fisher friends lifted him in his arms and bore him off to his mother.
“Have all the others been rescued?” inquired Dalton, eagerly, when Billy had been carried away.