Ballou's Monthly Magazine, Vol. XXVII, No. 1 — page 88: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

92 Old Hugh’s Look-off. “Take care! jam her down again,” shouted Joe, and [ hurriedly obeyed. ° He came over and took my place, and said: “Look sharp now, your eyes are younger than mine. See where the answer comes from if you can, when I halloo.” And putting his hands to his mouth, mak- ing a trumpet of them, while his knees held the tiller as in a vice, he shouted in stentorian tones: “Ahoy—ahoy there, A-H-0-y !” Shrill and frantic came back the answer: “ Help! help! We are perishing.” I had my ear trained to its utmost acute- ness, and I was able to follow with my eye to the spot whence the sound proceeded. “Q Joe, I see it. There is a long dark object, and something like white skirts trail- ing across it. Why, it must be a boat, keel uppermost.” “ Whereaway, whereaway, youngster?” demanded Joe, in quite as much excitement. “ Over there to the left. Don’t you see ?” * Come and steer for it, and tell me how to tack.” “T obeyed, and in hardly more than two minutes we were near enough to see plainly. It was indeed a -boat capsized, and two figures were clinging to the keel. “Hold on! Help is coming!” shouted I. “For Heaven’s sake, hurry!” came back in feeble, spent tones, in a woman’s voice. “Take care, Maury, ’m going to drop the sail. We must use oars now!” said Joe, hoarsely. . -I gave him a!l the help possible, and ina moment more, we were alongside the wrecked boat. I saw a boy beyond the woman, and as the ghastly, terrified face was turned toward me, full in the light of the moon, I learned who it was. I am thankful to say that I never thought of our antagonism or his unkindness. I only felt profound commiseration for his alarm and deadly peril, when I recognized Reginald Motley. “T’ll see to the lady, Maury, do you pull in the boy,” directed Joe Stephens. J leaned out as far as possible and stretched out my arms to Reg Motley. But, exhausted, frizhtened and thoroughly panic-stricken, he had no courage, and dared not relinquish his desperate grasp of the boat. Perceiving this, I slipped over the side, holding with one hand upon the gunwale. He seized my arm, and the movement dis- lodging him, he went floundering into the water. Ifhe had remained quiet no harm would have come of it, but with a wild yell of error he flung himself upon me, clasping both hands about my neck. The sudden shock broke the hold I had upon Joe’s boat, and the mad, insane fashion with which he bore upon me his whole weight, disabled me from swimming, and forced me under water. He clutched my throat so tightly I was nearly strangled, and could not release myself. I was conscious of a buzzing, singing noise in my ear. I felt the dizzy rush of blood to my head, and knew that we were both sinking. Yet, still I could not shake off his frantic, des- perate clutch. My fierce efforts only hastened the catastrophe. Struggling, floundering, we both sank lower, and went down—down—to the very depths of the ocean, it seemed to comicbooks. com