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the dock wall, which was crowded with the friends of the soldiers and sailors on board, those of the passengers for the most part remaining to go down the river, while the men thronged the bulwarks, and climbed to every point of vantage, to respond, with shouts and cheers, to waving of hands and, bonnets and the shrill good-byes.

“Everybody seems to have some one to say good-bye to him but me,” I thought again; and half pitying, half contemptuously, I leaned over the side watching the little crowd of excited women and old men who hurried along the dock quay so as to keep abreast of the vessel.

“A sad thing, too—saying good-bye,” I thought. “Perhaps they’ll never come back and meet again, and—”

My heart seemed to stand still, and I clutched the edge of the bulwark spasmodically, for all at once as I watched the women pressing along the edge of the stone quay, their faces turned toward us as they cried out to the men on board, I saw one young-looking thing wave her handkerchief and then press it to her eyes, and in imagination I heard her sobbing as she hurried on with the rest. But next instant I saw that she had caught her foot in one of the ropes strained from the great ship to the edge of the quay, and plunged forward headlong to strike the water twenty feet below, and disappear.

A wild shriek from the quay was mingled with the excited shouts of the men on board. Then orders were rapidly given, men ran here and there, and amidst a great deal of shouting, preparations were made for lowering down the nearest boat.

But all the time the huge East Indiaman, now steadily in motion, was gliding slowly toward the dock entrance, and the unfortunate woman had risen to the surface, and was beating the water slowly with her hand.

“She’ll be drowned long before that boat’s down,” said a gruff voice behind me, plainly heard in the shouting and excitement. “Why don’t they throw her a life-buoy?”

As whoever it was spoke a yellow ring fell from the vessel, splashed, and floated on the surface, but nowhere near the drowning woman. Two men ran along the quay to throw ropes. Other ropes were sent flying in rings from the Jumna’s stern; but I could see that the woman was too helpless to reach them, even if she saw them, which was doubtful, and the watching and waiting grew horrible.

The woman was now many yards away from where I stood, and I had seen her wild eyes gazing up as if into mine as we glided by her, the look seeming in my excitement to appeal specially to me, and at last I could bear it no longer.

I drew myself up on to the bulwark, and looked round.

The boat stuck with something wrong about one of the davits; no other boat was visible; no one had leaped and swum to save the woman, whose clothes, after sustaining her for some moments, were gradually sinking out of sight, and the motion of her hand grew slower.

“Yes; she’ll be drowned long before they can save her,” I said, I believe aloud, for I seemed to hear the words; and then, without calculating the consequences, I dived from the high side of the great East Indiaman, struck the surface, and went on down, down, into the black muddy water, till I felt as if I should never rise.

Then there was light once again, and I struck out, dimly conscious of shouts and cheering, but fully awake to the fact that I was swimming there with the ship gliding away, and the steep forbidding wall of the dock about a score or two of yards distant, looking slippery, and as if it would afford no hold if I swam there, as for the moment I felt urged to do.

For I had forgotten the object which made me plunge into the dock, and the long immersion had confused me for the time being, as I tried vainly to make out what people were shouting to me from the quay.

All at once, away to my right, I saw a hand appear above the surface, and like a flash it came back, and, amidst shrieks and cheers, I swam as hard as I could for the spot, to reach it just as the hand disappeared.

For the moment I thought all was over, but, thrusting my hands down, they touched something, and the snatch I gave made the woman’s shoulder roll up above the surface, then her face appeared, and, knowing the imminent danger, I tried to swerve aside to avoid the clutch of the poor creature’s hand.

I was too late. The fingers seized me with a death-grip, and as I was thrown off my balance, I struggled to free myself, went under, made a desperate effort which brought me up again, and recovering myself a little, I tried hard to swim now and keep both afloat.

It was a time of confused effort and excitement I don’t know that I felt much fear, only that I was getting weaker and weaker, and in a dull, half-stupefied fashion, I thought that if help did not come soon I should not be able to save the poor woman.

Then all was black again; there was a thundering in my ears, a scalding sensation in my throat, and my arms seemed to be turning to lead. But I was striving hard all the time, and once more in a dim way I saw the light, and struck out blindly enough, my only aim being to keep afloat.

I was conscious of shouting. Some one close by cried, “Hold her!” but the water was rising over my eyes again as I felt a sharp shock; hands clutched me directly after, and I was hauled into a boat, where I lay panting, my heart throbbing, and a sensation at the back of my neck as if I had received a sharp blow.

“Oh, he’s all right,” said a familiar voice. “Give way, my lads, and let’s land her. I dare say they’ll bring her to. Better chance than we shall have.”

In a dreamy way I saw the dock wall above me, and people looking down; then we reached some steps, and the dripping figure of the woman was lifted out of the boat, and taken by other hands.

“Get her into a room, and fetch a doctor directly,” said a voice close to me, which I now recognised as that of the officer I had run against. “Now, my lads, give way.—I say, how are you?”

I looked up, feeling dull and confused, and saw the officer was bending down over me. “That’s better,” he said. “We’ll soon have you on board, and the surgeon will put you right in no time.”

In a few minutes the great stern of the Jumna was looming over us, and a tremendous burst of cheering rose as we were pulled alongside; but it did not strike me then what it all meant. I looked up, and could see white faces looking down at us, and handkerchiefs were being waved because the woman was saved, I supposed, but I was too weak and exhausted to trouble much. I was conscious of the hooks being made fast, of the creaking of the blocks as the boat was run up to the davits, and then of being lifted out on to the deck, all wet and cold, with the water streaming from me. There was a crowd of excited people around, but all dimly seen, and a loud humming of voices and an order or two, but the faces were swimming round me, and the voices sounded distant, all but one, which seemed to belong to my cabin, and it said—

“My gallant lad!”

Almost at the same moment, as it appeared to me, a rough hand caught mine, and gripped it so that it would have been painful if all I was passing through had not been confused and misty, as if it were part of a dream. There was a face, too, looking down in mine with a woollen cap and a red tuft, and a suggestion of a white flannel jacket, and a hoarse voice said—

“Bless you for that, sir. She’s my dear lass.”

Then everything was dark again, as if my head had gone under water, and when I saw clearly once more I was in the cabin and two gentlemen were standing by my berth.

Chapter Four.

“Better, my lad?” said one of the gentlemen, smiling; but I was looking at the other, who was Captain Brace, as I said in a puzzled way—

“Better? What’s the matter? Have I been ill?”

“Only nearly drowned. I hope you haven’t swallowed much of that filthy dock water.”

“Drowned? Dock water?” I said in a puzzled way; and then “Oh!” and I started up, but lay down and said “Oh!” again in a different tone of voice, for I had given my head a sounding rap against the beam above my berth.

“Hurt yourself?” said Captain Brace.

“Not very much,” I cried, “but I recollect now. That woman—was she saved?”

“Ask yourself,” said the first speaker. “You saved her, and it was a precious plucky thing to do. Oh yes, they’d soon bring her round. There, you don’t want me,” he continued, as he felt my pulse, and then laid his hand upon my forehead. “Lie still a bit, and have a nap.”

He nodded in a friendly way, and then went out of the cabin, leaving me with Captain Brace, whose dark stern face did not look half so repellent now, for it was lit up by a grave sad smile.

“Head ache?” he said gently.

“No—yes—a little. Who was that?”

“The ship’s doctor.”

“Oh. Did I go off in a faint?”

“Well, hardly that. You were nearly drowned.”

“I couldn’t keep up,” I said excitedly. “She clung to me so.”

“Yes, of course; we could see that. But be calm. Don’t get excited.”

“No,” I said. “I’m no worse for it, only I ought to have managed better. I should have swum behind her, and held her up by the hair.”

“Yes,” said my companion, smiling, “that is one theory; but it is very hard to put theory into practice at such a time.”

I lay looking at him searchingly for a few minutes, and thinking I should never like him, for he was cold and sad and stern in his manner. He smiled at me when he caught my eye, but the smile kept fading away again directly, like wintry sunshine, and I was thinking that I would ask if I could not have another berth in a cabin to myself, however small, when another thought occurred to me, and I turned to him sharply.

“I say, that dirty water will spoil all my clothes!”

“Never mind your clothes, my lad,” he said smiling. “A few pounds will put that right. They are as nothing compared to a human life. Besides, it was not the brand-new uniform in that case.”

I felt the blood come into my cheeks, for he was smiling rather contemptuously.

“I’m not so proud of my uniform as all that,” I said hurriedly.

“Don’t be a humbug, my dear fellow,” he replied quietly. “You would not be natural if you were not proud of it. I was very proud of mine, I know. Stop; what are you going to do?”

“Get up,” I said quickly.

“Nonsense; not yet. What about your clothes?”

“My clothes?”

“Yes; you have no other suit unpacked. I gave your wet things to the steward to get dry.”

“I can soon unpack another suit,” I said, “if—if you will go.”

“Oh, I’ll go, if you like, my lad,” he replied with a smile; “but as we are to be chums through this voyage, we cannot afford to be very particular, especially as the accommodation is so limited. There, I will be your valet now; you shall be mine if I am ill. Here are your keys, purse, and pocket-book. I took everything out of your wet things.

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