“It’s a terrible thing for his friends,” said Poppy, at length. “And for you,” said Fraser, respectfully.
“I am very grieved,” said Poppy, quietly; “very shocked and very grieved.”
“I have got strong hopes that he may have got picked up,” said Fraser, cheerfully; “very strong hopes, I threw him a life-belt, and though we got the boat out and pulled about, we couldn’t find either of them. I shouldn’t be at all surprised if he has been picked up by some vessel outward bound. Stranger things have happened.”
The girl shook her head. “You didn’t go overboard after him?” she asked, quietly.
“I did not,” said the mate, who was somewhat tired of this tactless question; “I had to stand by the ship, and besides, he was a much better swimmer than I am—I did the best I could.”
Miss Tyrell bowed her head in answer. “Yes,” she said, softly.
“If there’s anything I can do,” said Fraser, awkwardly, “or be of use to you in any way, I hope you’ll let me know—Flower told me you were all alone, and—”
He broke off suddenly as he saw the girl’s lips quiver. “I was very fond of my father,” she said, in extenuation of this weakness.
“I suppose you’ve got some relatives?” said Fraser.
The girl shook her head.