Nimbus was of a peculiarly nervous temperament, and very apt to do things in moments of excitement that he regretted exceedingly as soon as he found time for reflection. So, in the present instance, acting impulsively, as he saw Breeze flung overboard in the darkness, he did just the wrong thing, and what, half a minute later, he would have given anything to undo. He should have tossed overboard a life-preserver or other object that would float, put the helm hard down, and thrown the brig up into the wind, thereby checking her headway and putting her into a position to sail back over the course she had just come. At the same time he should have called Captain McCloud and Wolfe. Above all, he should have instantly cut loose dory No. 6, which was towing astern by a short but stout line, so that Breeze might have a chance of seeing and reaching it almost as soon as he came to the surface after his plunge. Instead of doing any of these things, the impulsive negro, who was still a young and active man though very fond of calling himself “old,” slid down into the dory, cut the line by which she was towing, and seized a pair of oars. He had done all this as silently as Breeze had tumbled overboard, and without making a single outcry to alarm the two sleepers left on board the brig. The instant he had cut the line and found himself adrift he realized the folly of his act, and began to shout at the top of his voice, in the hope that it was not yet too late to arouse Captain McCloud and Wolfe. At the same time he began to pull wildly after the swiftly moving brig. He quickly realized that this was of no use, for she was moving three feet to his one, nor did his shouts bring any response from those on board. In spite of his excitement, a certain instinct told him that, so long as he could not catch the brig, the only thing remaining for him to do was to face about and try to find Breeze. His movements had been so quick that he was at no great distance from where the boy had struck the water, and was now swimming in the direction of the vanishing brig. He, at least, heard the cries uttered by Nimbus, and answered them. He had retained his presence of mind wonderfully, and now realized that somebody was searching for him. So he swam as easily as possible, but continued to shout at regular intervals; and in about five minutes he had the satisfaction of seeing the dory loom out of the darkness close beside him. In another minute he had caught hold of its gunwale, and been drawn in, dripping and chilled, but very thankful for this escape from what had seemed a hopeless situation. His first glance was towards the brig, but he could not see even a shadow resembling her. She had disappeared in the darkness as utterly as though she had never existed. “They must have put her about and headed her this way by this time,” he said to Nimbus. “I wonder that we don’t see her.”