They lifted him over, and he sank fainting in his daughter's arms.

Then one by one the sailors came up after him--none were missing, though two had been wounded, and were covered with blood.

No, none were missing--God had brought them, every one, safe back to the deck of the _Margaret_.
Smith, the captain, spat up the last of his river water and called for a cup of wine, which he drank; while Peter and Margaret drew the accursed gag from her father's mouth, and poured spirit down his throat.

Shaking the water from him like a great dog, but saying never a word, Smith rolled to the helm and took it from the mate, for the navigation of the river was difficult, and none knew it so well as he.

Now they were abreast the famous Golden Tower, and a big gun was fired at them; but the shot went wide.