"Yes; all right. You go."
He did not realise what it meant for a few moments, but as he was
struggling to his feet, to stand, weak and dripping, in the midst of a
pool of water, the same voice said,--
"That's right, my lad. Carry her up to my hotel."
"No, no, my lads," cried Chris confusedly to the too willing crowd of
fishermen about him; "I'm all right. I can walk. Who has my jacket and
hat?"
"Here, what's all this?" said another voice, as some one came pushing
through the crowd.
"Only a bit of an accident, sir," said the same strange voice. "Lady--
friend of mine--too late for the boat--slipped off the end of the pier."
"And Mr Chris Lisle saved her, sir."
"Humph! Whose boat is that--Mr Glyddyr's?"
"Yes, friend of mine, sir," said the same strange voice. "There, don't
lose time, my lads. Quick, carry her to my hotel."
"Can I be of any assistance?" said another voice.
"No, thank you. I can manage."
"Nonsense, sir; the lady's insensible. Asher, you'd better go with them
to the hotel."
Chris heard no more, but stood looking confusedly after the crowd
following the woman he had saved, and as he began to recover himself a
little more, he realised that the strange voice was that of the
over-dressed man who had been in Glyddyr's boat, and that Gartram and
then Doctor Asher had come down the pier, and had gone back to the cliff
road, while he, though he hardly realised the fact that it was he--so
strangely confused he felt--was seated on one of the low stone mooring
posts, with a rough fisherman's arm about his waist, and the houses on
the cliff and the boats in the harbour going round and round.
"Come, howd up, brave lad," said a rough voice.
"Here, drink a tot o' this, Master Lisle, sir," said another, and a
pannikin was held to his lips.
"Seems to me he wants the doctor, too," said another.
"Nay, he'll be all right directly. That's it, my lad. That's the real
stuff to put life into you. Now you can walk home, can't you? A good
rub and a run, and you'll be all right. I've been drownded seven times,
I have, and a drop of that allus brought me to."
"That's very strong," gasped Chris, as he coughed a little.
"Ay, 'tis," said the rough seaman, who had administered the dose. "It's
stuff as the 'cise forgot to put the dooty on."
"I can stand now," said Chris, as the sense of confusion and giddiness
passed off; and when he rose to his feet, the first thing he caught
sight of was Glyddyr's gig, by where the yacht was moored.
"Who saved me?"
"That gent in Captain Glyddyr's boat, my son. Got a howd on you with
the boat-hook, and, my word, he's given you a fine scrape. Torn the
flannel, too."
"Thank you, thank you. I can manage now."
"No, you can't, sir. You're as giddy as a split dog-fish. You keep a
hold on my arm. That's your sort. I'll walk home with you. Very
plucky on you, sir. That gent's wife, I suppose?"
"Eh? Yes. I don't know."
"Didn't want to be left behind, I s'pose. Well, all I can say is, he'd
ha' been a widower if it warn't for you."
By this time they were at the shore end of the pier, but Chris still
felt weak and giddy, and leaned heavily upon the rough seaman's arm,
walking slowly homeward, with quite a procession of blue-jerseyed
fishers and sailors behind.
Then, as from out of a mist in front he caught a gleam of a woman's
dress, and the blood flushed to his pale face as he saw that Claude was
coming toward him, but stopped short, and it was Mary Dillon's hand that
was laid upon his arm, and her voice which was asking how he was.
Volume One, Chapter XII.