Chapter 20

AVENGED AT LAST.

Homeward bound--Man overboard--Self-sacrifice--Noble revenge.

Fifteen years since Harry Campbell landed in Australia, a fine, stalwart, young man of nineteen! Fifteen years of toil, crowned by success, and he was on his way to England; home to his father, a quiet, grey, old man of some three score years; home to Wilton, where the sailor had taken up his abode, near his loved one's grave, in the farm, still kept by Mrs Valentine!

Full of hope and eagerness was Harry (one must call him by his boyish name still, though he is now a man of thirty-four), on his homeward voyage, over the running waves.

He had not seen much of the other passengers; in fact, he had kept almost entirely to himself, only entering into conversation with the captain, or any of the ship's crew that took his fancy. And many were the eyes of disappointment that in vain sought the friendship of the reserved, wealthy, homeward-bound Englishman.

He was talking to the man at the helm, when his eye caught sight of some one sitting, carelessly smoking, in a dangerous position near an open part of the ship's bulwarks. He abruptly ended his conversation, and walking across the deck, said--

"Excuse me, sir, but you are not in a very safe place."

The man addressed started, and as he turned hastily, as if to see who had presumed to dictate to him, slipped, and, clutching fruitlessly at Harry's outstretched arms, fell headlong into the sea. It was the work of a second, but in that second Harry had recognised Egerton's face!

"Man overboard! man overboard!" was the cry.

The vessel was running at a rapid pace through the water, so that she had already left the struggler in the waves, far behind.

"'Bout ship!" came the word of command; but long before the vessel answered to the helm, Harry had flung off his coat and hat, and leapt from the stern, down into the roaring waves, and striking out vigorously, reached Egerton.

It was a hard battle he had there with the waters, and he thought the boat, that speedily left the ship, would never reach them. With one hand he held up Egerton's head, while with the other he kept himself afloat. But the seconds, that seemed like hours, went on, and the boat did not come.

He was growing weaker, he knew it; his arm was stiffening, and Egerton struggling in the water with all the agony of a drowning man, hampered his movements and well nigh bore him under.

Would the boat never come? He raised himself with an effort and sent his voice along the trough of the waves, "Boat ahoy!"

That shout was heard, but it had robbed him of his remaining strength. His eyes were dim; his brain swam; he was losing consciousness, his gallant arm fell from beneath the head it had supported, and he sank!

A few seconds afterwards the half-drowned body of Egerton was dragged into the boat that, guided by Harry's shout, had found and reached the spot. In the confusion of rescuing the one, the other had drifted away; and with heavy hearts the sailors rowed back to the ship. The life that had just been snatched from the waters must not be sacrificed by delay. Restoratives, care, and watching did their work, and Egerton's life was spared.

But where was he who rescued him? The drowned body was picked up the following day; for the captain tacked about, and would not leave till it was recovered. And one quiet evening the noble body that met death to save a foe, was lowered over the vessel's side, into its most fitting resting-place, the waves it had battled with, there to lie until the sea shall give up her dead.

And this was Harry Campbell's revenge!