‘Great God, mum, it’s Mr. Dugdale!’ he roared.
The girl uttered another shriek, came in a bound to me and flung her arms round my neck.
Now the halloaing ashore was incessant, and the wild cries sounding through the wind were as though the island had been suddenly invaded by an army of frenzied cannibals.
‘My dearest!’ I cried, letting forth my heart in that moment of being clasped and clung to by her whom I had long loved and was risking my life to save, ‘it is I indeed! But release me now, my darling girl. We must get the barque under weigh instantly. Wetherly, where is Forrest?’
‘Dead, sir.’
‘Dead!’ I cried.
‘Shot dead by Miss Temple’s hand, sir,’ he exclaimed.
The girl let fall her arms from my neck, essayed to speak, struggled a little with her breath, and fell against me in a dead swoon.
‘Your coat, Wetherly,’ I shouted; ‘off with it, man, and make a pillow for the lady’s head. Quick! If the long-boat sculls ashore and the crew enter her before we can slip, we are both of us dead men.’
He instantly pulled off his jacket; and tenderly, but swiftly, I laid the girl down, first freeing the collar of her dress and no more, for there was time for no more.