Still the wind blew as hard as ever. At length, just as Mr Sedgwick had gone back to the house to look after the girls and Frau Ursula, a shout reached our ears. We hurried to the point of the rock, and there we saw what looked like a huge piece of wreck being driven towards us.
“I am afraid the brig is breaking up,” I observed. “Poor Mr Hooker! What can we do to help him?”
We tried to pierce the gloom to ascertain who was on the wreck. By degrees we saw that, instead of a piece of wreck, it was a small boat. Those in her were holding on to the hawsers. Now she rose, now she fell, as the waves passed under her. We could scarcely understand how she could live in that tossing sea, with the weight of several people on board. At length she seemed to stop, and turned round broadside to us.
“She must go over,” shouted Roger. “Look out; help them as they come ashore.”
She was at that time near enough for us to see two persons leap overboard; one, it seemed, holding on to the other. They approached. Again a voice shouted “Look out!” Roger Trew ran to the point of the rock, holding on to the rope, and stretching over into the sea. We could now distinguish the two men. Nearer and nearer they came.
“Give me your hand, Cooky, give me your hand,” cried Roger, stretching out his arm; and then I saw that Potto Jumbo was working along the hawser, with Mr Hooker secured by a rope to his back. The dawn was just breaking. The cry of some sea-fowl as they passed sounded ominously in our ears. Even then I feared that Potto Jumbo would lose his hold, or that Mr Hooker, weak from his illness, might be torn away by the fury of the sea. I ran forward with another rope, the end of which Oliver held, and just as Roger caught hold of Potto Jumbo’s hand, and was dragging him up, I grasped him by the arm. Mr Hooker seemed almost exhausted, and could not utter a word. With the help of Oliver and Tanda we at length got them up on the rock, though not till Potto Jumbo had severely hurt his legs against the sharp points.
“Heaven be praised, it is done! You all right soon, Mr Hooker,” exclaimed Potto Jumbo, as he committed his charge to our hands.
The boat meantime was slowly drifting in, in spite of the efforts of two men on board to hold her; one indeed appeared to have been hurt, and able to exert but little strength. Who they were we could not then see, but I hoped that my old friend Dick Tarbox had escaped.
“Is the boatswain one of them?” I asked of Potto Jumbo.
“Yes, massa, yes,” answered Potto; “and t’other Mr Thudicumb. But help dem, help dem; no mind me. I take care of Mr Hooker; Mr Thudicumb no help himself.”