LITMIR.BIZ

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three officers appeared, and rapidly followed the example set them.

      “Two are missing,” shouted Dick, “the fat little man and the thin one.”

      “Then one at least has gone for good,” replied one of the passengers who had just come ashore. “The Dutchman couldn’t swim if you paid him. The other could, no doubt. Hullo! What’s happening, Stapleton?”

      “I’m going in,” said Dick, quietly, as he tore at his coat and kicked his shoes off. “Look; there’s one, and he’s helpless!”

      He had no time for more, but coolly nodding to the group, ran into the water, and as a wave crashed into seething foam at his feet he dived into the mass and disappeared. A minute later he was in the trough beyond, and the wave which followed merely lifted him high in the air. There was a warning shout from the shore, and a dozen fingers pointed to his right. But did did not see them. Nor did he even hear, for the roar of the surf was so great. But he happened to catch sight of an arm, which was instantly submerged.

      “That is one,” he said to himself. “I’ll get him if I dive.”

      Dick had learned to be wary, and knew that it is as dangerous to approach a drowning man from behind as from the front when he is still full of vigour. He dived, struck out beneath the water, touched something, and struggled to the surface, clutching the tail of a coat. He pulled at it, and slowly the fat face of the stout little passenger appeared, and close to his that of the thin man, the one with cadaverous cheeks. Then a pair of arms came into sight, and Dick gathered that the stout stranger had gripped at the nearest person and had dragged him down with him, making escape impossible, making it even out of the question for the taller man to struggle for existence.

      “Better get them ashore like this,” he thought, with wonderful coolness considering the danger. “There’s a wave coming. I’ll copy the kroo boys and wait for it. Then I’ll try to get all three of us flung on the beach.”

      He took a firm hold of the collar of the stout man, who was apparently unconscious, for his eyes were tightly closed, though his arms still retained their grip. But the hold which Dick had obtained enabled him to keep the fat stranger’s lips just clear of the water, while it also raised the other man’s face. Then Dick lifted his free arm for a second. Those ashore saw the movement and shouted, while three or four of them ran down into the sea. A wave was coming. Dick could see it in spite of the blowing spray which whisked across the water. He took a deep breath and gripped the coat with both hands. The curling crest of a green wave shut out the horizon. There was a crash in his ears. The torrent caught him and almost tore his grip from the collar. Then he felt that he was moving. He and the weight to which he clung shot towards the shore, a foot or more of water covering them. Then there was a second crash, loud shouts from those on the beach, and afterwards —

      “Hullo! Does it hurt? Broke just above the elbow and we had such a job. No. Lie down, sir! You are not to move. Lie down, I say! You are safe out of the water.”

      Dick collapsed flat on his back and stared indignantly at the individual who had dared to give the order. He was a trim, dapper Englishman, with a small beard, and as he returned our hero’s gaze he showed every sign of being a man who meant what he said, and would have no nonsense. He was minus his coat, and his sleeves were rolled to the shoulder.

      “That’s an order,” he laughed. “Remember that, youngster. An order. See that you obey it.”

      He shook his fist, laughed merrily, and proceeded to unroll his sleeves and don his coat.

      They were in a large, airy room, and when Dick turned his head, he could catch, through the widely opened windows, a view of the sea, of the ship which had just reached the roads, and a small section of the sandy beach. No one was stirring. The sun was right overhead, and the shadows short and barely perceptible. The atmosphere quivered with the heat. Even the birds and the insects seemed to have succumbed. An unnatural quiet reigned over that portion of the Gold Coast, and only the surf thundered and roared. But that was partly imagination. Dick could not shake off the impression that he was even then swallowed in that huge mass of water, and that he could still hear, was deafened, indeed, by the crash of the billows. He looked again down at the sands. A solitary Fanti boy languidly sauntered across the view. There was a boat drawn up clear of the breakers, and another lay off the ship, a mile from the shore. Was it all a dream, then?

      “I say,” he suddenly remarked, and he felt surprised that his voice should sound so low and weak. “Er, I say, if you please, where am I, and what has been happening?”

      “Happening?” exclaimed his companion, with elevated eyebrows. “Oh, nothing at all. You acted like a madman, they tell me. You dived into the surf, and, as a result, the surf threw you back as if it objected to you. It threw you hard, too, and wet sand is heavy stuff to fall on. You’ve a broken arm, and may thank your stars that that is all. It ought, by rights, to have been a broken neck and hardly a whole bone in your body. Where are you? Why, at the Governor’s, of course. In clover, my boy.”

      The jovial individual laughed as he spoke, and came close to the bed.

      “You’ve been an ass,” he said bluntly, and with a laugh. “Seriously, my lad, you’ve done a fine thing. You went into the surf and brought out those two drowning men. It was a fine thing to do, but risky. My word, I think so!”

      He took Dick’s hand and squeezed it, while the bantering smile left his lips.

      “A nigger is at home sometimes in the surf,” he explained; “but when you know the coast as I do, you will realise that to get into those breakers means death to most white men. You want to be a fish in the first place, and you need to be made of cast iron in the second. I’m not joking. I’ve seen many a surf-boat splintered into bits as she bumped on the beach. Men are thrown ashore in the same way, and they get broken. Your arm is fractured, and a nice little business it has been to get it put up properly. The Dutchman is still unconscious, and I fancy he swallowed a deal of salt water. Mr Pepson, the other individual whom you saved, is quite recovered. He’s one of those fellows who is as hard as nails. But there, that’ll do. I’m talking too much. Lie down quietly and try to sleep like a good fellow.”

      So it was real after all. He had not dreamed it. He had gone into the surf, and the Dutchman was saved.

      “And who’s this Mr Pepson?” thought Dick. “And this fellow here must be the doctor. One of the army surgeons, I suppose. Fancy being at the Governor’s house. Phew! That ought to get me the billet aboard the ship.” Suddenly he recollected that his fractured arm would make hard work out of the question for a time, and he groaned at the thought.

      “Pain?” asked the surgeon. “No? Then worry? What’s wrong?”

      Dick told him in a few words.

      “Then don’t bother your head,” was the answer. “The Governor is not likely to turn you out while you are helpless, and the time to be worrying will be when you are well. You’ve friends now, lad. You were no one before – that is, you were one amongst many. Now you have brought your name into prominence. We don’t have men fished out of the surf every day of the year.”

      He spoke the truth, too, and Dick soon realised that his gallant action had brought him much honour and many friends. The Governor came that very afternoon to congratulate him, while the members of the household, the ladies of the Governor’s party, fussed about their guest. Officers called to see the plucky youngster, while, such is the reward of popularity, two of the traders on the coast made offers for Dick’s houses and the good-will of the stores. It was amazing, and if our hero’s head had hummed before with the memory of his buffeting in the surf, it hummed still louder now. He was in a glow. The clothes on his bed seemed like lead. The place stifled him. He longed to be able to get out, to shake off the excitement.

      “An attack of fever,” said the surgeon that evening, as he came to the room and found Dick wandering slightly. “The shock, hard times for the last few weeks, and thoughtless exposure to the sun, are probable causes. That’s what many of the youngsters do. They think that because an older hand can at a pinch work during the heat of the day and in the sun, they can do the same. They can’t. They haven’t the stamina of older men. Here’s an example.

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