Page:Stevenson and Quiller-Couch - St Ives .djvu/411

 In its new element the balloon became inspired with a sudden infernal malice. It sank like a pillow if we tried to climb it: it rolled us over in the brine; it allowed us no moment for a backward glance. I spied a small cutter-rigged craft tacking towards us, a mile and more to leeward, and wondered if the captain of the brig had left our rescue to it. He had not. I heard a shout behind us; a rattle of oars as the bowmen shipped them; and a hand gripped my collar. So one by one we were plucked—uncommon specimens!—from the deep; rescued from what Mr. Sheepshanks, a minute later, as he sat down on a thwart and wiped his spectacles, justly termed "a predicament, sir, as disconcerting as any my experience supplies."