“Fun?” said the old man severely. “Fun? To see a feller creature suffering, and perhaps drowned—”
“I don’t think I had better go,” said the victim; “it seems rather underhand.”
“Yes, you will,” said Joe. “Wind this line round an’ round your arm, and just swim about gently till I pull you in.”
Sorely against his inclination Private Smith took hold of the line, and, hanging over the side of the schooner, felt the temperature with his foot, and, slowly and tenderly, with many little gasps, committed his body to the deep. Joe paid out the line and waited, letting out more line, when the man in the water, who was getting anxious, started to come in hand over hand.
“That’ll do,” said Dan at length.
“I think it will,” said Joe, and, putting his hand to his mouth, gave a mighty shout. It was answered almost directly by startled roars from the cabin, and the skipper and mate came rushing hastily upon deck, to see the crew, in their sleeping gear, forming an excited group round Joe, and peering eagerly over the side.
“What’s the matter?” demanded the skipper.
“Somebody in the water, sir,” said Joe, relinquishing the wheel to one of the other seamen, and hauling in the line. “I heard a cry from the water and threw a line, and, by gum, I’ve hooked it!”
He hauled in, lustily aided by the skipper, until the long white body of Private Smith, blanched with the cold, came bumping against the schooner’s side.
“It’s a mermaid,” said the mate, who was inclined to be superstitious, as he peered doubtfully down at it. “Let it go, Joe.”