Then shaking me from him, sprang up the bank, and his voice was something fearful as he shouted, as he ran, for help.
There were men laboring, two or three fields off.

I don't know how long it took them to get to him, nor how long to get a boat out on the water, nor what boat it was.

I know they had ropes and poles, and that they were talking in eager, hurried voices, as they passed me.
I sat on the steps that led down the bank, clinging to the low railing with my hands: I had sunk down because my strength had given way all at once, and I felt as if everything were rocking and surging under me.
Sometimes everything was black before me, and then again I could see plainly the wide expanse of the river, the wide expanse of the gray sky, and between them--the empty, motionless boat, and the floating oars beyond upon the tide.
The voices of the men, and the splashing of the water, when at last they were launched and pulling away from shore, made a ringing, frightful noise in my head.

I watched till I saw them reach the boat--till I saw one of them get over in it.

Then while they groped about with ropes and poles, and lashed their boats together, and leaned over and gazed down into the water, I watched in a strange, benumbed state.
But, by-and-by, there were some exclamations--a stir, and effort of strength.