“That’s enough about it,” said the mate, turning at last and speaking thickly. “What I’ve done I must put up with.”
He walked forward to end the discussion; but the skipper shouted out choice bits from time to time as they occurred to him, and sat steering and gibing, a gruesome picture of vengeance.
Suddenly he sprang to his feet with a sharp cry. “There’s somebody in the water,” he roared; “stand by to pick him up.”
As he spoke he pointed with his left hand, and with his right steered for something which rose and fell lazily on the water a short distance from them.
The mate, following his outstretched arm, saw it too, and picking up a boat-hook stood ready, until they were soon close enough to distinguish the body of a man supported by a life-belt.
“Don’t miss him,” shouted the skipper.
The mate grasped the rigging with one hand, and leaning forward as far as possible stood with the hook poised. At first it seemed as though the object would escape them, but a touch of the helm in the nick of time just enabled the mate to reach. The hook caught in the jacket, and with great care he gradually shortened it, and drew the body close to the side.
“He’s dead,” said the skipper, as he fastened the helm and stood looking down into the wet face of the man. Then he stooped, and taking him by the collar of his coat dragged the streaming figure on to the deck.
“Take the helm,” he said.
“Ay, ay,” said the other; and the skipper disappeared below with his burden.