The Black Bar | Page 6

as, at every stroke, he made the water shimmer in the moonlight; and every moment as his forehead grew wet and his hands clammy, the midship, man expected to see the waves close over the poor wretch's head.
Just then his attention was taken up by the voices of the Captain and lieutenant.
"The scoundrel! the fiend!" cried the former, with a stamp of rage upon the deck; "if it were not for those on board I'd sink him."
"I wish we could, sir," replied the first lieutenant; "we shall lose him."
"No," cried the captain. "He has thrown that poor wretch overboard, believing that we shall heave to and pick him up sooner than let him drown."
"While he gets a mile away," said the first lieutenant; "and as soon as we overhaul him again, he'll throw over another--that is, sir, if we stop to pick the poor creatures up."
"Help! boat! help!" cried Mark, unable to contain his feelings longer; and lowering his glass, he turned to the captain. "Look, sir, look!" he cried, pointing in the direction of the drowning black; "the poor fellow's going down."
CHAPTER THREE.
SAVING A BROTHER'S LIFE.
There was a moment's dead silence after Mark had, in his excitement, cried for help. Then the word "Fire!" was uttered sharply, and there was the deafening report of a gun, whose shot again passed between the schooner's masts, but without doing the slightest harm. Then, almost mingled with the bass roar of the cannon, the captain's orders rang out; the boatswain's pipe sounded shrilly, and as the Nautilus was thrown up into the wind, and her sails began to shiver, down went the boat with its crew, Mark, at a sign from the captain, who gave him a friendly smile, having sprung in. Then there was a quick thrust off by the coxswain, the oars fell on either side with a splash, and the young midshipman stood up, balancing himself on the thwart in the stern-sheets, directing the officer who held the rudder-lines how to steer, for far-away on the moonlit water, when the swell rose high, he could still see the dark head and the rippling made by the swimmer struggling for his life.
"Starboard!" shouted Mark. "Pull, my lads, pull. Starboard a little more."
"Starboard it is," cried the officer. "See him still?"
"Yes," cried Mark. "Oh, pull, my lads, pull, or he'll go down before we get to him. Now port a little: they're pulling stronger on one side than on the other--not too much. That's right. Yes, I can--no, he is down in the hollow. There he is again. Pull your hardest," he cried, excitedly; and the men jerked at their oars as they cheered.
"Hold on; we're coming," cried Mark to the drowning man, thoughtless of the fact that the negro would not understand his words, even if he heard them, which was doubtful in the wild agony of his struggle, as with breath growing short, weak as he was from confinement, he struck out more quickly, and fought hard with the waves for his unhappy life.
"See him still?" cried Mark's companion, as the boat made the water foam.
"Yes--no--no," said Mark, hoarsely; "he's down in the hollow again. Straight on. We're going right for him, and--"
"Don't say he has gone down," cried the officer.
"No; I shall see him directly. We must be close to him now. Ready there with the boathook."
"Ay, ay, sir," cried the man in the bows, as he stood up ready to make a snatch at the drowning man. "See him, sir?"
Mark was silent as he strained his eyes over the surface of the sea, looking vainly for the struggling figure which had been making so brave a fight for life. There was a terrible feeling of dread oppressing him, as for the first time he was face to face with death; and in those awful moments he was unconscious of the regular reports of the guns as the Nautilus kept up her fire at the flying schooner. He heard nothing, saw nothing but the sea shimmering in the moonbeams. For after a long and desperate fight, with the water rising higher about his lips, the unfortunate black had grown weaker and weaker, and at last had given one tremendous plunge, which raised him high, so that he could glare wildly round for help; then he had ceased his struggle and gone slowly down, the water closing over his staring eyes and glistening teeth; there were a few bubbles, and the sea heaved and fell gently over the spot where he sank.
"I have been close here, sir," cried the coxswain.
"Easy, my lads," cried the young lieutenant in command. "Can't you see him, Van? Oh, hang it, lad, look! We mustn't let the poor beggar drown, even if he is a nigger."
Mark uttered a groan. He had come to save