That was truly a great feat; but the hero never explained.

When men arrived he was standing between the collapsed forms, panting and dripping.
Doubtless he looked just as if he had dropped them from under his arms, and why shouldn't he have the benefit of a great implication?
"I've saved them both," he roared; from which, of course, the ready creole imagination inferred the extreme of possible heroic performance.
"Bring them to my house immediately," and it was accordingly done.
The procession, headed by M.Roussillon, moved noisily, for the French tongue must shake off what comes to it on the thrill of every exciting moment.

The only silent Frenchman is the dead one.
Father Beret was not only well-nigh drowned, but seriously hurt.

He lay for a week on a bed in M.Roussillon's house before he could sit up.
Alice hung over him night and day, scarcely sleeping or eating until he was past all danger.

As for Beverley, he shook off all the effects of his struggle in a little while.