n, after
wading, the man plunged into deep water, swam strongly, and seized his
victim as a huge dog would, with his teeth, swung himself round, and let
the fierce current bear him along as he fought his way into the shallow,
regained his footing, and the next minute was back by the ledge. Here
he rose to his feet, and rolled and thrust Nic ashore, climbed out after
him, and knelt in turn by his side.

"Bean't dead, be he?" said the man to himself. "Not in the water long
enough. Worst o' these here noblemen and gentlemen--got no stuff in
'em."

Pete Burge talked to himself, but he was busy the while. He acted like
a man who had gained experience in connection with flooded rivers,
torrents, and occasional trips in fishing-boats at sea; and according to
old notions, supposing his victim not to be already dead, he did the
best he could to smother out the tiny spark of life that might still be
glowing.

His fine old-fashioned notion of a man being drowned was that it was
because he was full of water. The proper thing, then, according to his
lights, must be to empty it out, and the sooner the better. The
sea-going custom was to lay a man face downward across a barrel, and to
roll the barrel gently to and fro.

"And I aren't got no barrel," muttered Pete.

To make up for it he rolled Nic from side to side, and then, as his
treatment produced no effect, he seized him by the ankles, stood up, and
raised the poor fellow till he was upside down, and shook him violently
again and again.

Wonderful to relate, that did no good, his patient looking obstinately
lifeless; so he laid him in the position he should have tried at first--
extended upon his back; and, apostrophising him all the time as a poor,
weakly, helpless creature, punched and rubbed and worked him about,
muttering the while.

"Oh, poor lad! poor dear lad!" he went on. "I had no spite again' him.
I didn't want to drownd him. It weer only tit for tat; he chucked me
in, and I chucked him in, and it's all on account o' they zammon.--There
goes another. Always a-temptin' a man to come and catch 'em--lyin' in
the pools as if askin' of ye.--Oh, I say, do open your eyes, lad, and
speak! They'll zay I murdered ye, and if I don't get aboard ship and
zail away to foreign abroad, they'll hang me, and the crows'll come and
pick out my eyes.--I zay.--I zay lad, don't ye be a vool. It was on'y a
drop o' watter ye zwallowed. Do ye come to, and I'll never meddle wi