Clear and loud rang the voice of Elliot. "Man overboard!"
The wheelsman had known for some minutes that there was trouble afoot.
He signaled to the engine room to reverse and blew short, sharp shrieks
of warning. Already deckhands and officers, scantily clad, were
appearing from fore and aft.
"Men overboard--two of 'em!" explained Elliot in a shout from the boat
which he was trying to lower.
The first mate and another man ran to help him. The three of them
lowered and manned the boat. Gordon sat in the bow and gave directions
while the other two put their backs into the stroke. Quite casually
Elliot noticed that the man in the waist had a purple bruise on his left
cheek bone. The young man himself had put it there not three minutes
since.
Across the water came a call for help. "I'm sinking--hurry!"
The other man in the river was a dozen yards from the one in distress.
With strong, swift, overhand strokes he shot through the water.
"All right," he called presently. "I've got him."
The oarsmen drew alongside the swimmer. With one hand Macdonald caught
hold of the edge of the boat. The other clutched the rescued man by the
hair of his head.
"Look out. You're drowning him," the mate warned.
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