“The young gentleman’s right,” observed several of the men. “Let him alone, Dan; the little chap has had hard lines since he came aboard here, from you and others, and we won’t stand by and see him ill-used any longer.”
Dan dropped the rope he held in his hand, and turned away, while Owen, hoping that he had gained friends for poor Nat, walked aft.
“He’ll make a smart officer one of these days,” observed one of the men.
“Ah, that he will, Ned,” said another. “He is as handy already as many who have been at sea ten times as long.”
The ship had now got well to the southward, and the influence of the trade-winds began to be felt. With yards squared she stood for the Cape.
Owen had just come on deck, when, looking forward, he saw a figure falling into the water. Instantly there was a cry of “man overboard.” He ran on to the poop. The first mate, who was the officer of the watch, instantly gave the necessary orders to clew up the courses, put the helm down, to brace the yards to starboard, and bring the ship on a wind. At the same time preparations were made to lower a boat.
Owen, who saw that the person, whoever he was, unless a good swimmer, would be drowned before a boat could be lowered, seized a grating, and hove it overboard, then throwing off his jacket, plunged after it. He, though little accustomed to salt water had been from his earliest days in the habit of swimming in a large pond not far from Fenside, and his pride had been to swim round it several times without resting. He now brought his experience into practice; pushing the grating before him, he made towards the drowning person, who, from the wild way in which he threw his arms about in attempting to keep afloat, was evidently no swimmer. The sea was tolerably smooth, so that Owen made good way, and in a short time he saw that the person was no other than his friend Nat Midge.
“Cheer up, Nat,” he shouted. “Do not exhaust yourself; keep your hands quiet and tread water.”
Nat heard him, and did his best to obey his injunctions. The ship appeared to be getting further and further from them, but the grating would be sufficient to support both if Owen once got it up to Nat. It was very clear, however, that Nat could not swim to it.
Owen struck out with all his might. He would have got on faster without the grating, but, in case Nat should get frightened, it might be dangerous to approach him. “It must be done, though,” thought Owen; “he will sink if I do not get up to him quickly.” Leaving the grating, therefore, he struck out rapidly for the boy, and had just time to seize him before, exhausted by his fruitless exertions, he was disappearing beneath the surface. Owen held him up. Happily the drowning lad retained his senses.