Several hours passed by; still the man clung on, having secured himself apparently by a lashing. The storm seemed to be abating. Humphry took off his shirt, and fastening it to the end of a spar, waved it, to show the shipwrecked seaman that help was at hand if he could reach the shore. It was observed at length. The man, casting off the lashings, lowered himself into the water, and struck out for land. Humphry prepared his rope. Fixing the spar deep in the sand, and securing one end of the rope to it, he stood ready to plunge in, with the other end round his waist, to drag the man on shore should he get within his reach. How anxiously he watched! Nearer and nearer the man came. Now he was seen floating on his back, now he struck out again. A sea rolling in bore him on, but as it receded it threatened to carry him off once more. Now was the moment. Humphry dashed into the surf. The man’s strength had almost failed when Humphry grasped him, and hauling himself up by the rope dragged the man out of the surf, sinking down exhausted by his side the instant he was out of its reach.
Humphry was the first to recover.
“If you are strong enough to accompany me to the other side of the island, friend, where I have my home, we will set off at once; but if not, I will go back and get some food for you,” he said.
“I shall soon be better,” answered the man. “I think I could walk. Have you a companion with you?”
“No,” answered Humphry, surprised at the question; “I am all alone.”
“That’s strange! What, isn’t there a young lad somewhere about the island?”
“No,” said Humphry. “I have been here three years and have seen no human being.”
The man gazed into his countenance with a look of astonishment.
“What is your name, then?” he asked.
Humphry mentioned it.