Brandon found it impracticable to launch the raft from the stern, and therefore cut away a piece of the rail on the starboard side wide enough to admit of the passage of the lumbering hatch.
They took the precaution to fasten a cable to the raft, that it might not get away from them in its plunge overboard, and then, by an almost superhuman effort, rolled the platform into the sea.
It went in with a terrific splash, the sea water wetting both the castaways a good deal, for they had to stand at the rail to steady the raft’s plunge into the ocean.
“Hurrah!” Brandon shouted. “It floats, and we shall be able to get away.”
He hastened to pull the hatch up under the brig’s rail; and, with Milly’s aid, stepped the short mast. Then he placed the boxes and provisions aboard and lashed them firmly, after which a bed was made for Swivel on the raft.
Once more he descended into the half submerged galley and made some more warm drink for the injured boy, and this time Swivel was able to eat a little cracker with it.
They told him what they were about to do, and he seemed to take more interest in the plan than he had in anything since the night before.
“Can—can you carry me, Don?” he asked faintly.
“I can if I don’t hurt you,” the other replied. “Now don’t try to talk, Swivel; but, if I hurt you badly, touch me so I’ll know.”
With this he lifted the slight form of the lad in his strong arms, and carried him quickly, though easily, across the sloping deck and stepped aboard the raft, which floated almost even with the brig’s rail.