It had said, "Praise be to God--" and the
voice sounded small, clear, and confident, like the voice of a child
speaking in a cathedral. Lingard gave a start and thought--I've dreamed
this--and directly the sea said very close to him, "Give a rope."
The thunder growled wickedly, and Lingard, after shouting to the men on
deck, peered down at the water, until at last he made out floating close
alongside the upturned face of a man with staring eyes that gleamed at
him and then blinked quickly to a flash of lightning. By that time all
hands in the brig were wildly active and many ropes-ends had been thrown
over. Then together with a gust of wind, and, as if blown on board, a
man tumbled over the rail and fell all in a heap upon the deck. Before
any one had the time to pick him up, he leaped to his feet, causing the
people around him to step back hurriedly. A sinister blue glare showed
the bewildered faces and the petrified attitudes of men completely
deafened by the accompanying peal of thunder. After a time, as if to
beings plunged in the abyss of eternal silence, there came to their ears
an unfamiliar thin, far-away voice saying:
"I seek the white man."
"Here," cried Lingard. Then, when he had the stranger, dripping and
naked but for a soaked waistcloth, under the lamp of the cabin, he said,
"I don't know you.
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