Bill and Tommy ran into the surf to help them as they landed. The other man was so exhausted that he could scarcely lift himself on his feet.
“It’s old Grim!” cried Bill, as he saw him. “Well, I am glad he has escaped.”
Tommy made them no answer, as he had not forgotten the many rope’s-endings old Grim had from time to time given him. They got him up and seated him on the beach. He soon recovered his strength sufficiently to speak.
“Thank you, mates, thank you,” he growled out. “And I say, Bill, I told you ill-luck was coming. What have you got to say to it?”
“That I am very thankful we have escaped with our lives,” answered Bill. “And so we ought to be; and I have no doubt that He who has helped us thus far will help us still farther. That is all I have got to say now. But hurrah! Surely there’s somebody else floating out there on a bit of timber. Jack, look! I am right, am I not?”
“Yes, Bill, and I wish I was a better swimmer than I am; I would go off and help him. But old Grim cost me a good tussle, and I don’t feel quite as if I could manage it again just now.”
Jack, in truth, had been considerably exhausted in coming through the surf, and had now to sit down and rest himself. Meantime they kept watching the surface of the lagoon, in the hopes that more of their shipmates might have escaped. Bill was most concerned about Mr Collinson.
“Oh dear! Oh dear! If he should be drowned,” he said to himself over and over again. “That poor young lady! It will break her heart—I know it will, for all that she looked so bright and spirited.” Suddenly Bill started up. “Come along, Tommy; come along, Jack. I am sure I heard a shout a little way along the shore. It is there where the pieces of wreck are now drifting.”
Grimshaw was too tired to move, but Jack and Tommy followed Bill, who ran along the beach to a point towards which a large bit of timber was drifting. There was a man on it. He again shouted as they approached.
“Ay, ay! We’ll help you!” cried Bill.