his life, he did in the end prevail upon Lancelot to let
him make the attempt.

The man stripped and was into the sea in a moment, fighting bravely with
the billows that buffeted him. It was a good sight to see him slowly
forging his way through that yellow, clapping water; it is always a good
sight to see a strong man or a brave man doing a daring thing for the
sake of other people. We watched his body as he swam; he was but a
common man, but his skin seemed as white as a woman's in that foul
spume, and his black hair, which he wore long, streamed in a rail upon
the water as a woman's might. But I do not think the woman ever lived
who could swim as that man swam.

We watched him grow smaller and smaller, and most of us prayed for him
silently as he fought his way through the waters. At last we saw that he
had reached the skiff, and we could see that he was being pulled over
the side. Then there came a long interval--oh, how long it seemed to us,
as we watched the leaping waves and the distant skiff that leaped upon
them, and wondered if the man's strength would carry him back again to
us! By-and-by--it was not really such a very long time, but it seemed
like centuries--Lancelot, who was looking through his spy-glass, said
that the man was going over the skiff's side again. Then we all held our
breaths and waited.

So it was; the fellow was swimming steadily back to us. It was plain
enough to see that he was sorely fatigued, and that he was husbanding
his strength, but every stroke that he gave was a steady stroke and a
true stroke, and every stroke brought him a bit nearer to where we lay.
And at last his black head was looking up at us beneath our hull, and in
another second he had caught a rope and was on the deck again, dripping
like a dog, and hard pushed for lack of breath.

Lancelot gave him a measure of rum with his own hands, and by-and-by his
wind came back to him, and he found his voice to speak as he struggled
into his clothes.

What he had to tell was not very cheering. He had given Captain Amber a
faithful picture of our perils and our privations, and Captain Amber had
made answer that he was sorry for us with all his heart, and only wished
that he was in the danger with us. Which we knew very well to be true,
though, indeed, the good gentleman was in scarcely less danger himself.

His orders to us were that we should with all speed construct rafts by
tying together the planks of which we had abundan