“He’s dead,” said the skipper, as he fastened the helm and stood looking down into the wet face of the man. Then he stooped, and taking him by the collar of his coat dragged the streaming figure on to the deck. “Take the helm,” he said. “Ay, ay,” said the other; and the skipper disappeared below with his burden. A moment later he came on deck again. “We’ll take in sail and anchor. Sharp there!” he cried. The mate went to his assistance. There was but little wind, and the task was soon accomplished, and both men, after a hasty glance round, ran below. The wet body of the sailor lay on a locker, and a pool of water was on the cabin floor. The mate hastily swabbed up the water, and then lit the fire and put on the kettle; while the skipper stripped the sailor of his clothes, and flinging some blankets in front of the fire placed him upon them. For a long time they toiled in silence, in the faint hope that life still remained in the apparently dead body. “Poor devil!” said the skipper at length, and fell to rubbing again. “I don’t believe he’s gone,” said the mate, panting with his exertions. “He don’t feel like a dead man.” Ten minutes later the figure stirred slightly, and the men talked in excited whispers as they worked. A faint sigh came from the lips of the sailor, and his eyes partly opened. “It’s all right, matey,” said the skipper; “you lie still; we’ll do the rest. Jem, get some coffee ready.” By the time it was prepared the partly drowned man was conscious that he was alive, and stared in a dazed fashion at the man who was using him so roughly. Conscious that his patient was improving rapidly, the latter lifted him in his arms and placed him in his own bunk, and proffered him some steaming hot coffee. He sipped a little, then lapsed into unconsciousness again. The two men looked at each other blankly. “Some of ’em goes like that.” said the skipper. “I’ve seen it afore. Just as you think they’re pulling round they slip their cable.” “We must keep him warm,” said the mate. “I don’t see as we can do any more.” “We’ll get under way again,” said the other; and pausing to heap some more clothes over the sailor he went on deck, followed by the mate; and in a short time the _Swallow_ was once more moving through the water. Then the skipper, leaving the mate at the helm, went below. Half an hour passed. “Go and see what you can make of him,” said the skipper as he re-appeared and took the helm. “He keeps coming round a bit, and then just drifts back. Seems like as if he can’t hook on to life. Don’t seem to take no interest in it.”