“If I could but do it,” thought Morton to himself. “I have swum through some tolerably heavy seas on the Shetland coast.”
He at once made the proposal to Mr Calder.
“Impossible!” was the answer. “You would be drowned, my boy, to a certainty.”
“But I could do it, and whether I’m drowned or not, it matters little,” exclaimed Job Truefitt. “Here, who’ll take charge of this here young Frenchman?”
Rawson offered also to make the attempt, but he was known not to be a good swimmer.
A thundering crash was heard. It was the fall of the remainder of the foremast, and the breaking up of the fore part of the ship. It was a strong hint to the English party to hasten whatever they might undertake.
“You’ll let me go, Mr Calder?” said Morton again.
He and Job Truefitt had secured some light line to the cask, which had just been hauled up. It was again lowered, and the lieutenant nodded his head, but his countenance was very sad, as if he had little hopes of the success of the expedition. The instant his permission was gained, Ronald and Job slid down the side of the ship, and were quickly borne on with the cask towards the shore. They both struck out bravely, and soon reached the cask. They had little at first to do, except to keep themselves afloat. All those who anxiously watched them, knew that the trial would come as they neared the beach, and got within the power of the under suck of the receding waves. At first they merely accompanied the cask, and supporting themselves by it, husbanded their strength.
“They will be lost to a certainty, I know,” observed Rawson. “If they don’t succeed, I don’t know who will. I never saw a finer swimmer than that man Truefitt.”
“Oh, I hope they will! I hope they will be saved!” cried Glover, in an agony of terror for Morton, who had inspired him with the sincerest affection.