As he did so the water-logged craft went down, and he with
it. Ella shrieked and called his name imploringly. In the wild anguish of
the moment she would have jumped overboard after him had she not been
restrained.
"Patience," cried her father, "he will rise in a moment."
Houghton's little boat, now so heavily freighted, had almost gone under in
the suction. The negro, rendered half wild with terror, was bent only on
saving his own life. He was scarcely in the boat before he had the oars in
the rowlocks, and began to pull for the shore. In their eager scanning of
the dark water, Bodine and the others did not notice this at first, and
when they did the negro was deaf to their expostulations and threats. The
captain tried to reach him as he heaped maledictions on his head, but at
that instant another squall swooped down, enshrouding them in spray, and
nearly swamping their frail vessel. They sat silent and trembling,
expecting Houghton's fate, but the gust passed finally, and the lights of
the city gleamed out.
"Now put about, you--coward," thundered Bodine.
"No, sah, neber," replied the negro; "de boat swamp in two mi nit if I put
'bout in dis sea."
The veteran began to crawl toward him to compel obedience. The man
shouted: "Stop dat ar. Ef you comes nigher I hit you wid'n oar. Bettah one
drown dan we all drown."
Ella gave a despairing cry, and found oblivion in a deathlike swoon.
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