“Then come and help me to see if there is any person under these spars here,” I said.
Of course we had to bawl out to each other at the top of our voices on account of the clashing of the seas, the groaning and creaking of the timbers and bulk-heads, and the thundering of the masts against the sides.
Jim soon joined me. We had to be very cautious how we moved about, for besides the risk there was at any moment of a sea sweeping across the deck, we might on account of the darkness have stepped overboard. We lost no time in crawling to the spot whence I heard the groans proceeding.
On feeling about we soon discovered a man, his body pressed down on the deck by a heavy spar, and partly concealed by the canvas.
“Who are you?” cried Jim. “Speak to us,—do.”
A groan was the only answer.
“Do you try and lift the spar, Jim, and I’ll drag him out,” I said.
Jim tried to do as I told him, but though he exerted all his strength he could not succeed in raising the spar.
“Oh, dear! Oh, dear! The poor fellow will die if we cannot get him free soon,” I exclaimed, in despair.
“This will do it,” cried Jim, who had been searching about, and now came with the broken end of a topgallant-yard to serve as a handspike. By its means he prised up the spar, while I as gently as I could dragged out the man by the shoulders. No sooner did I feel his jacket than I was almost sure that he was no other than our good old skipper. He was breathing heavily, and had apparently been rendered unconscious by a blow on the head. I at length got him out from under the spar.