This could all be seen from the Lydia, and ropes and life buoys, which he failed to catch, were thrown to him as he rose for a moment to the surface and finally disappeared.

Now this unhappy incident threw us all into such confusion and consternation aboard the Curlew, dividing our men’s attention between attempting to reach the drowning skipper and endeavouring to secure another rope thrown from the ship, that all control of the boat was lost.  The Curlew was capsized by the treacherous current, and we were all engulfed without a moment’s warning.

An awful exclamation of “Oh, God!” was the last thing I heard as I sank below the waves, and then the water rushed into my open mouth, and I felt my cap torn from my head.  Down, down I sank, struggling, yet with my eyes open, while the water became dark around me and I was drawn along by the whirling undercurrent.

I raised my hands above my head and tried to regain the surface and get breath; but it was many moments before my eyes were gladdened at seeing the water grow greener and brighter.  Then I could see the sunlight above me glancing and dancing in the surrounding water; then at last I felt that my hands had reached the surface, my head rose up into the open air, where I gasped and got breath.  I swam about for a little, thinking only of keeping myself above water, but when I got my full breath again and found that I could keep afloat without great effort, I looked around me and remembered what had happened.

There was the ship, the Lydia, lying athwart the channel, ten fathoms or so away from me, and I could see the St. Magnus beating down towards me.  I looked for my father and my uncle Mansie and the other men, but could see none of them anywhere.  Probably my own lightness, and the fact that I was not, like them, encumbered with heavy sea boots, had aided me in coming up to the surface before them.  But I could not have helped them, even had they stood in need of such help as mine, and I knew that they were all good swimmers, so I turned round on my breast with the current and continued swimming towards the Curlew, which now floated, bottom up, to the seaward side of me.

The St. Magnus very soon came within hail, drifting with the rapid stream.  The men were at the oars, though they only used them to steady the boat and hold her back.

Just as they were abreast of me the man at the bow cried out, “There’s old Slater!  Port your helm!” and the boat’s head was turned away from my direction, for they had not seen me.

As she slewed round, however, Tom Kinlay. who sat at the stern, caught sight of me swimming close under the boat’s side.  So near to him was I, indeed, that by stretching out his arm he might have caught my upraised hand.  Our eyes met, and a smile of triumph played about his lips.  The boat was rowed away from me without his uttering a word or once attempting to save me.

I kept steadily on my way, swimming towards the Curlew, nor did I once look round again for the St. Magnus.