“I will try and save him!” I exclaimed.
At that moment loud shrieks were heard, for the sea had lifted the boat and swept her and all clinging to her off the rock. The rope still held, and my men hauled on it with right good-will. The other rope was still round my waist. I plunged into the water, and swam towards the boat. I caught sight of the gentleman just at the moment that he had been forced from his hold. In another instant he would have been carried away, when, grasping him tightly, I shouted to my men to haul me in. Almost exhausted, I was drawn on shore with the person I had rescued. Of the rest, three were thrown on the rocks, one of whom was carried away before he could make good his footing, while the remainder were swept out to sea. Besides the two we had first seen, only eight were saved. The sorrow exhibited by the ladies and the old gentleman when they saw how severely injured the young man had been in his effort to help them, made me suppose that they were relatives.
“Oh, Henri, Henri!” they murmured, bending over him.
Their accent and the last words they uttered showed me that they were French.
The young man opened his eyes and tried to smile, as if to reassure them.
“I am not so very much hurt,” he answered, in a low voice.
Just then I was sure I knew the expression of his countenance; his eyes, too, glanced at my face.
“Are you not Frenchy?” I asked, “My old friend Henri de Villereine?”
“Yes, Charley. I thought I knew you,” he answered. “Thank you, thank you, for what you have done!”
His companions looked at me with surprise. “I am an old schoolfellow,” I said; “and I am doubly thankful that I have been the means of helping those belonging to him.”