The suspense on board of the cruiser was terrible, the more so because
perfect discipline kept it under, and it could find no vent in words.
Men spoke in muffled tones, cadets hoped and feared, and all awaited
the result--life or death to the bold rescuers.
No one yet knew whether the safety of his crew had caused the gallant
cadet officer at the helm of the lifeboat to put back for the ship
before the storm struck them, or he had returned because he had
accomplished his perilous errand.
The ship plunged and keeled as she lay to, and the eyes of all were
alternately turned toward the inky-black tempest roaring down upon
them, and the lifeboat struggling so manfully to reach the lee of the
vessel and safety.
“Ahoy, my brave fellows! pull for your lives!”
It was the voice of the gallant De Long thus sent over the black,
tempestuous waters.
The brave commander could stand the strain of suspense no longer--he
must speak.
Then came a faint cheer from the struggling oarsmen, and a roar like
mighty winds went up from the ship’s deck in response.
“Pull! Pull for your lives, brave lads!” shouted Captain De Long.
And back over the waters came the answer:
“Ay, ay, sir, we’ll make it!”
But would they?
Hushed were all for a moment more, and then the leaping light shot up
under the lee of the cruiser, the men aboard cheered wildly, while
those in the boat were drawn on board by ready and willing hands.
The next instant the lifeboat was hung to its davits and firmly lashed,
while from it was taken a limp form and carried below to the care of
the ship’s surgeon.
The storm was upon them now, and the men sprang to their stations, yet
loud and ringing were the cheers in honor of the gallant rescuers, for
the lifeboat had picked up those for whom they had risked their lives.
“Mr. Merrill, the captain wishes to see you aft, sir.”
It was an hour after the breaking of the storm, and the good ship was
driving along before the gale, and directly on her course.
Stars were seen now in the black cloud-rifts, and all knew that the
hardest work was over.
Mark Merrill had not gone below to change his clothes.
“What’s the use in this sea?” he had said, and he reported at his
station.
Now he was sent for to come aft, and he promptly reported, saluting,
though capless.
“Mr. Merrill, accept my congratulations upon as plucky a deed as I ever
beheld,” and Captain De Long grasped the hand of the young midshipman.
“Thank you, sir; but I saw that he was hurt and could not swim,” said
Mark modestly.
“You found him readily, it seems?”
“Yes, sir, and he was unconscious, so I had no trouble in keeping him
up until the lifeboat took us in.”
“May I ask if you knew who it was when you made your leap to the
rescue?”
“Yes, sir.”
Just then a cadet came up and said:
“Pardon, sir, but the surgeon asks to see Mr. Merrill.”
“Go below, Mr. Merrill, and then you had better turn in for the night.
To-morrow morning report to me at eight bells.”
Mark departed from the quarter-deck and sought the surgeon’s quarters.
There he found Scott Clemmons, who had returned to consciousness, with
a gash upon his head, skillfully dressed, and his left arm bound close
to his side, for his collar-bone was broken.
“Ah, Merrill, I wish to say that your plucky act saved Clemmons, for he
was stunned by the blow on the head, and his collar-bone is fractured.
He wishes to see you.”
Mark’s hand had been warmly grasped by the ship’s surgeon as he spoke,
and now he stepped toward Scott Clemmons.
“Say, old fellow, you did a manly thing, they tell me, and I owe you my
life. We haven’t been exactly chummy in the past, but, of course, now
you’ll believe in my friendship for you?”
Mark Merrill would have given much could he have escaped the thanks of
Scott Clemmons.
He could understand how much it cost him of pain and humiliation to say
what he did.
But he said:
“Oh, we are good enough friends, Mr. Clemmons, and what I did for you I
would have done for any one else, and you know I don’t mind a ducking
and a swim even in the sea.”
“I don’t recall any of it except that I lost my hold and felt the dull
thud as I struck the yard; but they say you leaped from aloft and kept
me afloat until the lifeboat picked us up. Now I’m laid up in ordinary
for a few weeks, so come in and see me often.”
“You’ll be all right soon, Clemmons, and now you need sleep, as the
doctor will tell you,” and Mark Merrill turned away and went to swing
his hammock, get on a dry rig, and turn in, for his struggle with the
sea even his iron frame could not help but feel.
The next morning all hands were mustered on deck, and Captain De Long,
in a few well-spoken words, complimented Mark Merrill upon his noble
act, and praised the crew of the lifeboat for their gallant service.
Mark blushed like a girl under the words of the captain, and to his
brother midshipmen made light of his act; but he got full credit for
the deed all the same, for all understood that there had been no love
lost between Scott Clemmons and himself.
And so on its way held the cruiser until the shores of England hove in
view, and the anchor was soon after let fall in the Mersey.
Among the first to land were three midshipmen who seemed to have some
special mission ashore.
They were Herbert Nazro, Winslow Dillingham and Bemis Perry, and they
made their way directly to a fashionable jewelry establishment, where
an order was left for some special work, with directions to forward it
by express to Lisbon by a certain time, when the ship would touch there.
After a few days in port the cruiser again set sail, and Scott Clemmons
was again on duty, though there was a red scar still visible upon his
forehead.
But all noticed that, in spite of owing his life to Mark Merrill, Scott
Clemmons seemed rather to shun the one to whom he owed his life than to
seek his company.