“Where’s Bill?” exclaimed Tommy, a horror coming over his heart.
“A man overboard! A man overboard!” was shouted from the mizen-top. It was echoed from below.
At that instant the captain came on deck. In falling, Bill had struck the chain-span of the weather-quarter davits, breaking it as if it had been packthread. Mr Collinson, the second lieutenant, who had charge of the deck, pointed it out to the captain.
“The poor fellow must have been killed, whoever he was.”
“Who is it?” asked the captain.
“Sunshine Bill!” cried out a voice.
“Bill Sunnyside, sir,” said another.
“Alas!” thought the captain, “the poor lad I promised his widowed mother I would look after. Does any one see him?” asked the captain.
“Yes, sir; there he is! There he is!” answered several voices.
Bill was seen floating on the top of a foaming sea. The life-buoy was let go, its bright light bursting forth, and burning a welcome beacon, it might be, to poor Bill. He was known to be a good swimmer. No boy was equal to him on board. The ship was flying away, however, at a rapid rate from him. Many declared that they saw him swimming, and that therefore he could not have been killed, as had been supposed. Captain Trevelyan gazed for an instant at the spot where Bill had been seen. He was no longer, however, visible. It was a moment to him of intense anxiety. To lower a boat in that foaming sea would in all probability cause the loss of many more, and yet could he desert the poor lad?