'He'll weather
it! He'll weather it!' George Olver kep' a mutterin', but his teeth was
set; his eyes shot through me like a tiger's--them two was brothers, and
more'n brothers, always. But when thar' come a half lull so't we could
see, and we looked out and seen him risin' on the wave, grippin' that
other one, in spite o' hope I scurse believed my eyes, and what a shout
they sent up from that boat!
"Ay, thar' they was, for sure, but--God, how fur away! Not much for
common weather, but then they looked as fur to me as 'arth from heaven.
Ef we could reach 'em afore the next sweel come; and every man, it seemed
as though he put his livin' soul into his arms. 'Pull! pull!' says
George, and seemed to git the strength of seven, but still we went too
slow. We missed _him_ at the oar. And _he_, he was the strongest swimmer
that I ever knowed, but who could live in the like o' that? We pulled for
life or death, and that brave head kep' risin' on the wave.
"Ef we could 'a' had another minute afore the next sweel come! George
Olver felt it. He sent the rope out with a giant's throw. Then it was all
and more than we could do to held the boat ag'in the wind.
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