CHAPTER TWENTY TWO.
AN AUSTRAL AURORA.
A wild cry went up to Heaven as we struggled for dear life in the water, battling with the under-tow of the in-rolling waves, which tried to drag us down in their angry clutches; but first one and then another emerged dripping on the sands, even Mr Ohlsen having saved himself without help, although he had been snugly tucked up in his hammock a moment before, and was lying down in the stern-sheets when the boat capsized.
Poor Harmer, however, whose broken leg was only fresh set, and the bones not united, was unable to put out a hand on his own behalf, and seeing he had not gained the beach with the others, I looked eagerly about for him, knowing that in his crippled state it was almost impossible for him to have got ashore.
Just then, his head appeared some twenty feet out from the land, in the midst of the boiling surf, with his hands stretched out in mute entreaty to us, appealing for succour as he was being carried out rapidly to sea.
Who could refrain from venturing in again to rescue him?
Certainly not I; and, as I dashed in, Pat Doolan followed my example, the cook uttering a wild Irish yell that had the effect of animating several of the rest of the sailors to lend us a helping hand, although they had not the pluck to dash in too.
"Hooroo, boys!" he shouted.

"Follow me leader, ye spalpeens, and let us say who'll raich the poor drowning chap first! Ould Oireland for iver!" He reached Harmer almost as soon as I, and the two of us took hold of him together--the poor fellow, however, being already insensible, made no effort whatever to keep up and help himself, and was absolutely limp in our grasp.
We managed to swim back in with our burden on the top of a roller, well enough; but when we tried to secure our footing on the shore, the under- tow took us out again, although Pat Doolan flung himself face downwards on the sand, clutching it with one of his hands while he held the half- drowned man with the other in the same way as I did.

Once, twice, we made the attempt; and yet, in spite of our desperate struggles, both of us putting forth all our strength, the backwash of the waves laughed at our resistance, floating us back again out into deep water.

At our third try, however, and it would have been the last, for we were both exhausted by this time, the men on the beach--who had formed a line holding on to one another, Jorrocks being foremost and Captain Billings next, wading in up to their necks in the sea--managed to catch hold of us, when we were dragged out by sheer force; Pat and I, with Harmer between us, all lumped together in a confused mass, and the hands hauling us in with a "Yo, heave ho!" as if they were pulling at the topsail halliards or getting the main tack aboard! My swim after Mr Macdougall was nothing to this, although I had then battled with the sea for over an hour, while now the Irishman and I had not been ten minutes over our fight with the remorseless waves; but it was a terrific contest whilst it lasted, and albeit we had both come off victorious, thanks to the timely assistance of our comrades, we were nearly worsted, and so utterly pumped out that another five minutes of it would have ended the matter very differently.

As it was, I had to lie on the sands, whither Jorrocks had lifted me beyond the reach of the tide, for a considerable period before I could either move or speak, while Pat Doolan was in an equally sorry plight.
When I at last gained my voice, I stammered out a question-- "How's Harmer ?" I asked, anxiously.
But Captain Billings, who was beside me, lifting up my head tenderly with his arm placed round me, shook his head sadly.
"Poor fellow," he said; "you did your best, but he must have been gone before you reached him.