Kennedy swung the boat to port and we came alongside the dark, bobbing object.
It was the body of a man.
With a boat-hook Craig hauled the thing nearer and we leaned over the side and together pulled the limp form into our boat.
As we laid him on some cushions on the flooring, our boat drifted clear and swung around so that the flare shone in his face. He stirred and groaned, but did not relax the grip of his fingers still clenched after we had torn them loose from the skylight grating.
It was Shelby Maddox—terribly wounded, but alive.
Others of the crew were floating about, and we set to work to get them, now aided by the volunteer fleet that had followed us out. When it was all over we found that all had been accounted for so far, except the engineer and one sailor.
Just at present we had only one thought in mind. Shelby Maddox must be saved, and to be saved he must be rushed where there was medical assistance.
Shouting orders to those who had come up to continue the search, Kennedy headed back toward the town of Westport.
The nearest landing was the town dock at the foot of the main street, and toward this Craig steered.
There was no emergency hospital, but one of the bystanders volunteered to fetch a doctor, and it was not long before Shelby was receiving the attention he needed so badly.