"Don't kill him," I cried. "Make his hands fast and leave him for the present. We may want him by-and-by." The boatswain whipped a rope's end round him and shoved him against the rail, and then came running up the poop ladder, wiping the streaming perspiration from his face. The breeze was freshening, and the boat alongside wobbled and splashed as the ship towed her through the water. I ran aft and stared into the gloom astern. I could see nothing of the long-boat. I looked again and again, and fetched the night-glass, and by its aid, sure enough, I beheld her, a smudge on the even ground of the gloom, standing away close to the wind, for this much I could tell by the outline of her sail. "Miss Robertson!" I cried, "we are saved! Yonder is the long-boat leaving us. Our lives are our own!" "I bless God for His mercy," she answered quietly. But then her pent-up feelings mastered her; she rocked to and fro, grasping the spokes of the wheel, and I extended my arms just in time to save her from falling. "Bo'sun!" I shouted, and he came hurrying to me. "Miss Robertson has fainted! Reach me a flag out of that locker." He handed me a signal-flag, and I laid the poor girl gently down upon the deck with the flag for a pillow under her head. "Fetch me some brandy, bo'sun. The steward will give you a wine-glass full." And with one hand upon the wheel to steady the ship, I knelt by the girl's side, holding her cold fingers, with so much tenderness and love for her in my heart, that I could have wept like a woman to see her lying so pale and still. The boatswain returned quickly, followed by the steward. I surrendered the wheel to the former, and taking the brandy, succeeded in introducing some into her mouth. By dint of this and chafing her hands and moistening her forehead, I restored her to consciousness. I then, with my arm supporting her, helped her into the cuddy; but I did not stay an instant after this, for there was plenty of work to be done on deck; and though we had escaped one peril, yet here we might be running headlong into another, for the ship was under full sail; we had but three men to work her, not counting Cornish, of whose willingness or capacity to work after his rough handling I as yet knew nothing. The glass stood low, and if a gale should spring up and catch us as we were, it was fifty to one if the ship did not go to the bottom. "Bo'sun," I exclaimed, "what's to be done now?" "Shorten sail whilst the wind's light, that's sartin," he answered. "But the first job must be to get Cornish out of his lashin's and set him on his legs. He must lend us a hand." "Yes; we'll do that," I replied. "Steward, can you steer?" "No, sir," responded the steward. "Oh, damn it!" exclaimed the boatswain. "I'd rather be a guffy than a steward," meaning by guffy a marine. "Well," cried I, "you must try." "But I know nothing about it, sir." "Come here and lay hold of these spokes. Look at that card--no, by Jove! you can't see it."