“Up above. He’s all right—kind o’ went to pieces when I got you aboard.”
Ed heaped blankets about Clem. Then he continued swiftly:
“I got some coffee on the fire now. Say! Do you know what that cuss done?”
“Who—Tom?”
“Yep! I found him hangin’ on to your collar—both o’ you danged near drowned, by thunder! He made me haul you up first, too! Say, what happened? I ain’t understood yet how you come overboard——”
“Get the coffee,” muttered Clem, closing his eyes. “Talk later.”
With a mutter of self-accusation, Ed rushed away.
Clem lay in a coma of exhaustion. He felt a gradual warmth steal through him, and realized that he was safe enough; but he was too weary to move. A moment later he caught a step at his side, and opened his eyes, thinking that Ed had returned.
Instead, however, he saw Tom Saunders. The big fellow, staring at Clem with wild eyes, lowered himself to the edge of the bunk. He was white and shaken. As he met the gaze of Clem he broke down, and lowered his face in his arms, sobbing unrestrainedly.
Clem wondered, but was too weak to speak for the moment. At length Tom lifted his head.