ing the
water, was like a disc of iron cooled to a dull red glow, ready to start
rolling round the circular steel plate of the sea, which, under the
darkening sky, looked more solid than the high ridge of Samburan; more
solid than the point, whose long outlined slope melted into its own
unfathomable shadow blurring the dim sheen on the bay. The forceful
stream from the pipe broke like shattered glass on the boat's gunwale.
Its loud, fitful, and persistent splashing revealed the depths of the
world's silence.

"Great notion, to lead the water out here," pronounced Ricardo
appreciatively.

Water was life. He felt now as if he could run a mile, scale a ten-foot
wall, sing a song. Only a few minutes ago he was next door to a corpse,
done up, unable to stand, to lift a hand; unable to groan. A drop of
water had done that miracle.

"Didn't you feel life itself running and soaking into you, sir?" he
asked his principal, with deferential but forced vivacity.

Without a word, Mr. Jones stepped off the thwart and sat down in the
stern-sheets.

"Isn't that man of yours bleeding to death in the bows under there?"
inquired Heyst.

Ricardo ceased his ecstasies over the life-giving water and answered in
a tone of innocence:

"He? You may call him a man, but his hide is a jolly sight tougher than
the toughest alligator he ever skinned in the good old days. You don't
know how much he can stand: I do. We have tried him a long time ago.
Ola, there! Pedro! Pedro!" he yelled, with a force of lung testifying to
the regenerative virtues of water.

A weak "Senor?" came from under the wharf.

"What did I tell you?" said Ricardo triumphantly. "Nothing can hurt him.
He's all right. But, I say, the boat's getting swamped. Can't you turn
this water off before you sink her under us? She's half full already."

At a sign from Heyst, Wang hammered at the brass tap on the wharf, then
stood behind Number One, crowbar in hand, motionless as before. Ricardo
was perhaps not so certain of Pedro's toughness as he affirmed; for he
stooped, peering under the wharf, then moved forward out of sight. The
gush of water ceasing suddenly, made a silence which became complete
when the after-trickle stopped. Afar, the sun was reduced to a red
spark, glowing very low in the breathless immensity of twilight. Purple
gleams lingered on the water all round the boat. The spectral figure in
the stern-sheets spoke in a languid tone:

"That--er--companion--er--se