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Benita, an African romance by H. Rider (Henry Rider) Haggard
page 36 of 274 (13%)
cover, dared hoist no more sail in that breeze. In half an hour she was
nearly opposite to them, and they were still far away. A little more
sail was let out, driving them through the water at as quick a rate
as they could venture to go. The steamer was passing three miles or so
away, and black despair took hold of them. Now the resourceful Thompson,
without apologies, undressed, and removing the white shirt that he had
worn at the dance, bade a sailor to tie it to an oar and wave it to and
fro.

Still the steamer went on, until presently they heard her siren going,
and saw that she was putting about.

"She has seen us," said Thompson. "Thank God, all of you, for there is
wind coming up. Pull down that sail; we shan't need it any more."

Half an hour later, with many precautions, for the wind he prophesied
was already troubling the sea and sending little splashes of water over
the stern of their deeply laden boat, they were fast to a line thrown
from the deck of the three thousand ton steamer _Castle_, bound for
Natal. Then, with a rattle, down came the accommodation ladder, and
strong-armed men, standing on its grating, dragged them one by one from
the death to which they had been so near. The last to be lifted up,
except Thompson, was Benita, round whom it was necessary to reeve a
rope.

"Any use?" asked the officer on the grating as he glanced at her quiet
form.

"Can't say; I hope so," answered Thompson. "Call your doctor." And
gently enough she was borne up the ship's side.
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