the summit of the next swell.

Oddly enough, his first thought, as he hung there, was not for the man
he had come to save, but for that which had turned him pale when first
he glanced through the telescope. The foremast across which he lay was
complete almost to the royal-mast, though the yards were gone; and to
his left, just above the battered fore-top, five men were lashed, dead
and drowned. Most of them had their eyes wide open, and seemed to stare
at Zeb and wriggle about in the stir of the sea as if they lived.
Spent and wretched as he was, it lifted his hair. He almost called out
to them at first, and then he dragged his gaze off them, and turned it
to the right. The survivor still clung here, and Zeb--who had been
vaguely wondering how on earth he contrived to keep his seat and yet
hold on by the rope without being torn limb from limb--now discovered
this end of the mast to be so tightly jammed and tangled against the
wreck as practically to be immovable. The man's face was about as
scaring as the corpses'; for, catching sight of Zeb, he betrayed no
surprise, but only looked back wistfully over his left shoulder, while
his blue lips worked without sound. At least, Zeb heard none.

He waited while they plunged again and emerged, and then, drawing
breath, began to pull himself along towards the stranger. They had seen
his success from the beach, and Jim Lewarne, with plenty of line yet to
spare, waited for the next move. Zeb worked along till he could touch
the man's thigh.

"Keep your knee stiddy," he called out; "I'm goin' to grip hold o't."

For answer, the stranger only kicked out with his foot, as a pettish
child might, and almost thrust him from his hold.