Sam seized his hand and helped him aboard, where he lay upon the deck, bleeding, a slight trickle from the corner of his ugly mouth and from his nose.
"You can't make it, Bill," Sam declared. "Let the poor devil go. You done the best you could."
"I stop now wid de air, hey? Wat you says, Mr. Bill?"
Heldron's query aroused Bahama Bill. "If you slack up on dat pump, yo' dies a wuss death 'n Cap'n Smart," he said wearily, and in an even tone. It was evident that the strain had been hard on him, but he was game.
In a minute he sat up.
"I get him dis hear time," he growled, shaking himself and standing upon the rail again.
His giant black body twitched, the huge muscles under the ebony skin worked, flowing, contracting, and slacking up, making a wavelike motion, but showing the mighty power which lay in his frame. He was getting worked up to a nervous pitch, and the trembling was not from weakness. It was the gathering power in his thews which was beginning to work.
He flung far out, and dropped straight downward with a pitch-pole plunge, going furiously down like some monstrous sea-demon. Only a flash of his black body showed before he had turned the bend, and was following the air-hose into the hole.
This time he saved many seconds. He reached the form of Smart, and caught the end of the mainsheet about him, quickly slipping a hitch. Then he hauled himself out into the sunshine again, and came rising like a fish to the surface. In a moment he was back aboard the Sea-Horse, and then he spoke.