Tom struck out bravely. Larry and I stretched out our arms, and, catching hold of him, hauled him on board the boat. Several others, now leaping into the water, tried to reach us, but, had we attempted to save them, we should to a certainty have perished together.
Nettleship sprang aft to the helm.
“Now, lads, step the mast and hoist the sail,” he shouted. “Get out the starboard oars.”
In another instant the boat was before the wind, a cable’s length from the ship. We could scarcely believe that we were saved; indeed, every moment it seemed as if the fierce foaming seas would break aboard us and send us to the bottom. I could not resist still looking at the ship, nor could Tom Pim. He presently exclaimed—
“There’s another boat being launched.”
We both saw her for a moment, but she presently disappeared.
“She’s gone,” cried Tom.
“No—no, there she is,” I exclaimed, as I caught sight of her on the summit of a sea, and again she sank out of view. As far as I could make out, there were several people in her, but she had no sail hoisted, and consequently in those foaming seas rising up between us was scarcely visible.
We ran on, steering to the southward. Most of the hands were employed all the time in baling out the water, while Nettleship’s whole attention was engaged in steering the boat, for he well knew that with the slightest want of care she would have filled in an instant. It seemed a wonder, indeed, that she could float in the midst of those foaming seas. Tom and I still kept looking at the ship.
“She is sinking lower and lower,” said Tom.