“Mr Bullock, we have the wind west-nor’-westerly. Take in—”
Very suddenly, the voice broke off. Something seemed to have gone badly wrong on the poop; the spanker boom had swung wildly across the deck, heavy, fast and lethal. Men were shouting, and when the boom went smartly back the other way Halfhyde saw that the Captain’s daughter had gone. Then something in the water, no more than a break of spray in the near darkness, caught his eye and he was aware of the white face staring up and the mouth open, calling desperately.
With no hesitation, Halfhyde dived from the main yard.
Chapter 3
HALFHYDE WENT in cleanly, came up well clear of the ship’s side. He dashed water from his eyes. From the poop someone had thrown a lifebelt; Halfhyde saw it bobbing about on the waves, already white-topped and breaking. There was no sign of the girl now. Aboard the ship, the First Mate was running to the lee skids to lend a hand with sending away the lifeboat; already the chain gripes had been freed. On the poop, Patience and two of the hands had managed to get a line over the end of the spanker boom—it had parted its 3½-inch hemp guy pendant—and the wild swinging was coming under control.
With strong strokes, Halfhyde swam for the lifebelt, reached it and got an arm through it. Then he saw the girl breaking surface not far away.
He went for her, fast.
The wind was gusting strongly now, hitting the Aysgarth Falls with hammer blows out of the darkness and laying her over to leeward. McRafferty had passed the order to back the topsails and take the way off, and the royals and topgallants were already furled along their yards. Even so, and though scarcely two minutes had passed since the girl had gone overboard, the ship was drawing away as Halfhyde reached the half-drowned figure, laid his hands on her roughly, and drew her close in an attempt to get the lifebelt over her head and shoulders. Like any person in danger of drowning, she struggled violently.
“Easy!” Halfhyde shouted. “Relax, and leave yourself to me. You’ll be all right now, I promise you.”
It was no use; the struggling continued. All Halfhyde could do was to retain his own grip on the lifebelt and press the girl close to his body, pinning her arms. She was gasping like a landed fish, and Halfhyde guessed she would have swallowed a good deal of seawater and would have doubtless drawn some into her lungs as well. Meanwhile, the two of them were being hauled to the ship’s side on the line attached to the lifebelt; Bullock was heaving away with the assistance of McRafferty and one of the seamen who had been helping to snatch in the spanker boom.
Within another minute or two they were alongside, surging up and down the iron hull of the windjammer. A heavier line was sent down quickly, and Halfhyde slipped a bowline around the girl, grasping the line himself above her head. They were hauled up and assisted over the rail to the waist. For a moment McRafferty, who had come for’ard from the poop, held his daughter in his arms, then released her as the saloon steward came up to carry her below.
McRafferty seized Halfhyde’s hand. “That was a brave thing to do,” he said. “Thank you. I shall not forget it.”
Halfhyde made a gesture of negation then said, “Your daughter, sir. She has taken water for a certainty. It must be got out of her lungs.”
“The steward—”
“I know how to do it, sir. Leave her to me. Your steward will not have had my training.”
McRafferty met his eyes then nodded. “Very well,” he said curtly. “Do your best.” He turned away, making back for the poop ladder where his duty lay. Halfhyde lifted the girl, who seemed to him feather light, and with the steward in attendance carried her up the poop ladder behind her father, and then down through the hatch to the saloon. He laid her gently on the settee that ran below a line of ports, now with their deadlights clamped down hard. Stripping away the soaked clothing and working quickly, he leaned his weight on the palms of his hands and bore down on her chest. Behind him stood the steward, Goss, apparently acting as chaperone.
The treatment seemed to work; the seawater was expelled, and some colour came back into the girl’s face.
“Feeling better?” Halfhyde asked.
She nodded without speaking. She was shaking like a pendant in a gale of wind. He turned to the steward, his naval authority coming back almost unconsciously. He said, “Blankets, and quickly.” He saw the hesitation in the man’s manner: his nose had been put out of joint. Aboard a merchant ship, it was the steward who provided the first medical attention before handing over to the Master, the final arbiter on health and injury at sea. Beside which, Halfhyde was nothing but a fo’c’sle hand. Halfhyde said, “Jump to it, Goss.”
Goss turned away, looking sullen. Halfhyde called after him, “Bring brandy as well. Look sharp!”
Goss said, “Now look. I’m not here to take orders from bloody deckhands—”
“You will take orders from me and like it. I said, look sharp.” The eyes of the two men met. Goss couldn’t long meet the stare; he turned away, muttering. Halfhyde knelt down by the girl’s side. He took one of her hands in his, felt the coldness, tried to give it some of his own comparative warmth. Like the fo’c’sle, the saloon held a damp, cold fug; the fire, along
