FROM THE CANONMan Overboard!An Episode of the Red SeaBY WIN<strong>ST</strong>ON S. CHURCHILL, 1899ILLU<strong>ST</strong>RATIONS BY HENRY AU<strong>ST</strong>INIT was a little after half-past ninewhen the man fell overboard.The mail steamer was hurryingthrough the Red Sea in the hope ofmaking up the time which the currentsof the Indian Ocean hadstolen. The night was clear, thoughthe moon was hidden behindclouds. The warm air was ladenwith moisture. The still surface ofthe waters was only broken by themovement of the great ship, fromwhose quarter the long, slantingundulations struck out, like thefeathers from an arrow shaft, andin whose wake the froth and airbubbles churned up by the propellertrailed in a narrowing line tothe darkness of the horizon.There was a concert on board.All the passengers were glad tobreak the monotony of the voyage,and gathered around the piano inthe companion-house. The deckswere deserted. The man had beenlistening to the music and joiningin the songs. But the room was hot,and he came out to smoke acigarette and enjoy a breath of thewind which the speedy passage ofthe liner created, it was the onlywind in the Red Sea that night.The accommodation-ladder hadnot been unshipped since leavingAden, and the man walked out onto the platform, as on to a balcony.He leaned his back against the railand blew a puff of smoke into theair reflectively. The piano struck upa lively tune, and a voice began to©<strong>Winston</strong> S. <strong>Churchill</strong>; reprinted bykind permission.FINE<strong>ST</strong> <strong>HOUR</strong> 96/24sing the first verse of "The RowdyDowdy Boys." The measured pulsationsof the screw were a subduedbut additional accompaniment. Theman knew the song. It had been therage at all the music halls when hehad started for India seven years before.It remindedhim of thebiilliant andbusy streets hehad not seen for solong, but was soon to seeagain. He was just going tojoin in the chorus, when the railing,which had been insecurely fastened,gave way suddenly with a snap, andhe fell backwards into the warm water of thesea amid a great splash.
FOR a moment he was physicallytoo much astonished tothink. Then he realised that hemust shout. He began to do thiseven before he rose to the surface.He achieved a hoarse, inarticulate,half-choked scream. A startledbrain suggested the word "Help!"and he bawled this out lustily andwith frantic effort six or seven timeswithout stopping. Then he listened."Hi! hi! clear the wayFor the Rowdy Dowdy Boys."The chorus floated back to himacross the smooth water, for theship had already passed completelyby. And as he heard the music along stab of terror drove throughhis heart. The possibility that hewould not be picked up dawned forthe first time on his consciousness.The chorus started again —"Then — I —say — boys,Who's for a jolly spree?Rum — turn — tiddley — um.Who'll have a drink with me?""Help! help! help!" shrieked theman, in desperate fear."Fond of a glass now and thenFond of a row or noise:Hi! hi! clear the wayFor the Rowdy Dowdy Boys!"The last words drawled out faintand fainter. The vessel was steamingfast. The beginning of the secondverse was confused and brokenby the ever-growing distance. Thedark outline of the great hull wasgetting blurred. The stern lightdwindled.Then he set out to swim after itwith furious energy, pausing everydozen strokes to shout long wildshouts. The disturbed waters of thesea began to settle again to theirrest. The widening undulations becameripples. The aerated confusionof the screw fizzed itself upwardsand out. The noise of motion, thesounds of life and music died away.The liner was but a single fadinglight on the blackness of thewaters and a dark shadow againstthe paler sky... the sternlight be-At ** •-•length fullrealisation cameto the man, and he stopped swimming.He was alone — abandoned.With the understanding his brainreeled. He began again to swim,only now instead of shouting heprayed — mad, incoherent prayers,the words stumbling into oneanother.Suddenly a distant light seemedto flicker and brighten. A surge ofjoy and hope rushed through hismind. They were going to stop — toturn the ship and come back. Andwith the hope came gratitude. Hisprayer was answered. Broken wordsof thanksgiving rose to his lips. Hestopped and stared after the light —his soul in his eyes. As he watchedit, it grew gradually but steadilysmaller. Then the man knew that hisfate was certain. Despair succeededhope. Gratitude gave place tocurses. Beating the water with hisarms, he raved impotently. Fouloaths burst from him, as broken ashis prayers — and as unheeded.The fit of passion passed, hurriedby increasing fatigue. He becameFINE<strong>ST</strong> <strong>HOUR</strong> 96/25silent — silent as was the sea, foreven the ripples were subsiding intothe glassy smoothness of the surface.He swam on mechanically along thetrack of the ship, sobbing quietly tohimself, in the misery of fear. Andthe stern light became a tiny speck,yellower but scarcely bigger thansome of the stars, which here andthere shone between the clouds.Nearly twenty minutes passed,and the man's fatigue began tochange to exhaustion. The overpoweringsense of the inevitable pressedupon him. With the weariness camea strange comfort. He need not swimall the long way to Suez. There wasanother course. He would die. Hewould resign his existence since hewas thus abandoned. He threw uphis hands impulsively and sank.Down, down he went through thewarm water. The physical deathtook hold of him and he began todrown. The pain of that savage griprecalled his anger. He fought with itfuriously. Striking out with armsand legs he sought to get back to theair. it was a hard struggle, but he escapedvictorious and gasping to thesurface. Despair awaited him. Feeblysplashing with his hands he moanedin bitter misery — "I can't — I must.O God! let me die."The moon, then in her third quarter,pushed out from behind theconcealing clouds and shed a pale,soft glitter upon the sea. Upright inthe water, fifty yards away, was ablack triangular object. It was a fin.It approached him slowly.His last appeal had been heard. $