Suddenly some one caught hold of his coat from below, and a distressed voice spoke under his elbow.

The light of the lamp he carried in his right hand fell upon an upturned dark face whose eyes entreated him together with the voice.

He had picked up enough of the language to understand the word water, repeated several times in a tone of insistence, of prayer, almost of despair.

He gave a jerk to get away, and felt an arm embrace his leg.
'"The beggar clung to me like a drowning man," he said impressively.
"Water, water! What water did he mean?
What did he know?
As calmly as I could I ordered him to let go.

He was stopping me, time was pressing, other men began to stir; I wanted time--time to cut the boats adrift.
He got hold of my hand now, and I felt that he would begin to shout.