recovered himself, but only to be jerked backwards into the water by
the boathook, which struck him in the chest.

'A moi!' cried the man, and disappeared in the muddy water. He rose
to the surface under the ship's quarter, and the mate, quick as
lightning, dumped the whole coil of the slack of the main sheet on
to the top of him. In a moment he was at the level of the rail, the
mate and the steward hauling steadily on the rope, to which he clung
with the tenacity and somewhat the attitude of a monkey. At the
same instant a splash made the rescuers turn in time to see
Conyngham, whose coat lay thrown on the deck behind them, rise to
the surface ten yards astern of the 'Granville' and strike out
towards the boat, now almost disappearing in the gloom of night.

The water, which had flowed through the sunniest of the sunny plains
of France, was surprisingly warm, and Conyngham, soon recovering
from the shock of his dive, settled into a quick side-stroke. The
boat was close in front of him, and in the semi-darkness he could
see one of the women rise from her seat and make her way forward,
while her companion crouched lower and gave voice to her dismay in a
series of wails and groans. The more intrepid lady was engaged in
lifting one of the heavy oars, when Conyngham called out in French:

'Courage, mesdames! I will be with you in a moment.'

Both turned, and the pallor of their faces shone whitely through the
gloom. Neither spoke, and in a few strokes Conyngham came
alongside. He clutched the gunwale with his right hand, and drew
himself breast high.