Cries of "Shame!" from the crowd collected upon the
bank of the river, had no effect in rousing these people to attempt
the rescue of a perishing fellow-creature. The boat passed on. The
drowning man again rose to the surface, the convulsive motion of
his hands and feet visible above the water, but it was evident that
the struggle would be his last.
"Is it possible that they will let a human being perish, and so
near the shore, when an oar held out would save his life?" was the
agonising question at my heart, as I gazed, half-maddened by
excitement, on the fearful spectacle. The eyes of a multitude were
fixed upon the same object - but not a hand stirred. Every one
seemed to expect from his fellow an effort which he was incapable
of attempting himself.
At this moment - splash! a sailor plunged into the water from the
deck of a neighbouring vessel, and dived after the drowning man.
A deep "Thank God!" burst from my heart. I drew a freer breath as
the brave fellow's head appeared above the water. He called to the
man in the boat to throw him an oar, or the drowning man would be
the death of them both. Slowly they put back the boat - the oar was
handed; but it came too late!
