He listened, but there came no answer. The tumult and the shouting seemed to have died away. Was he leaving the vicinity of the transport, or was she being borne from him in the frozen grip of a mountainous berg?
Just for an instant, but for an instant only, Jerry lost hope and courage.[ He seemed to want to cease swimming and let himself sink.] Then he got control of himself again, and struck out more vigorously than before.
[HE SEEMED TO WANT TO CEASE SWIMMING AND LET HIMSELF SINK.]
“I’m not going to die! I’m not going to die!”
This he told himself over and over again, fiercely.
“I’m not going to quit! I’m not going to be a quitter!”
He felt better when he said this over once or twice. He was beginning to feel weary, but he would not allow his mind to dwell on that. His brain forced his legs and arms to do their duty.
And then, when for perhaps the fiftieth time he had feverishly repeated: “I’m not going to be a quitter!” Jerry became aware of something looming up before him out of the fog. At first he took it to be merely but a thicker cloud of the white mist, and then he imagined it to be the dirty white of some iceberg.
But a moment later he knew it for what it was—the camouflaged side of a vessel.