CHAPTER VII

THE WHEEL COMES FULL CIRCLE

The next morning I was up early, and went on deck. The sun had risen,
and in the moist atmosphere the tints of sky and sea were beautiful.
Everywhere was the warm ocean undulating lazily to the vague horizon.
A few lascars were still cleansing the decks; others were seated on their
haunches between decks, eating curry from a calabash; a couple of
passengers were indolently munching oranges; and Stone the quartermaster
was inspecting the work lately done by the lascars. Stone gave me a
pleasant good-morning, and we walked together the length of the deck
forward. I had got about three-fourths of the length back again, when I
heard a cry from aft--a sharp call of "Man overboard!" In a moment I had
travelled the intermediate deck, and was at the stern, looking below,
where, in the swirling waters, was the head of a man. With cries of "Man
overboard!" I threw two or three buoys after the disappearing head,
above which a bare arm thrust itself. I heard the rush of feet behind
me, and in a moment Hungerford and Stone were beside me. The signal was
given for the engines to stop; stewards and lascars came running on deck
in response to Hungerford's call, and the first officer now appeared.
Very soon a crew was gathered on the after-deck, about a boat on the port
side.

Passengers by this time showed in various stages of dressing--
women wringing their hands, men gesticulating. If there is anything
calculated to send a thrill of awe through a crowd, it is the cry of "Man
overboard!" And when one looked below, and saw above the drowning head