"Can you see Lord Hastings?" shouted Frank.
"No."
The two craft were less than a hundred yards apart now and still Jack could make out but a solitary figure aboard, that of Smith, stretched out at full length aft.
The boys closed up the remaining distance quickly and the two boats scraped alongside each other. Pausing only long enough to lash the two together, Frank and Jack sprang aboard The Hawk.
Quickly they glanced about. There was Smith and no one else in sight. Frank stooped over him.
"He's breathing," he said.
He hurried to the side of the boat, and leaning over, filled his cap with water. This he sprinkled in Smith's face and the man stirred.
Jack, in the meantime, had gone into the little cabin and a startled cry now came to Frank's ears.
He hurried to his friend; and there, in the cabin, the boy stood over the prostrate form of their commander. The latter lay still and white and Frank stared at him with a great fear in his heart.
"Is he dead?" he asked in a hoarse whisper.