The thought, once
lodged, could not be banished that the youth, in his wounded pride, might
have silently chosen to brave every danger in order to prove that he was a
"gentleman," and that he would "leave them alone," even at the cost of his
life. This result of his harsh words was crushing to Bodine, and to escape
from its intolerable weight he tried to entertain the hope that George had
found some way of attaining safety as yet unknown.
The young man had not been drowned, although he had had an exceedingly
narrow escape. It was not the rigging which so endangered his life. As he
rose toward the surface his head struck the pole with which the negro was
accustomed to push his boat around in the shallow water, and the blow was
so stunning that he did no more than instinctively cling to the object
which had injured him. It sustained his weight, but, in the wind-lashed
waves and darkness, he and his support were unseen. The tide was running
out swiftly, and he and the pole had been swept well astern, while Bodine
looked at the spot where they thought he had sunk-a point from which the
negro's frantic oar-strokes were rapidly taking them.
Gradually George's clouded senses cleared, and at last he recalled all
that had occurred; far too late, however, for his voice to be heard. He
shouted two or three time but soon recognized that his cries were lost in
the dashing waves and howling wind.
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