“Think it’s broken?”
“I don’t know. It’s a wonder he wasn’t killed when that boat blew up. He must have been hurt in some way, or he wouldn’t be unconscious.”
“Maybe it’s because he’s nearly drowned. He may be half full of water.”
“That’s so,” agreed Frank. “I’ll see what I can do for him while you steer. Make all you can on each tack.”
They were fast leaving behind them the wrecked motor boat which bobbed about on the waves. It was no longer on fire, and the brothers would liked to have towed it to the pier, but this was impossible in the storm.
Then, as his brother skillfully managed the sailboat, Frank once more bent over the unconscious form. He knew what to do in giving first aid to partly drowned persons, and lost no time in going through the motions designed to rid the lungs of water.
Frank did succeed in getting some fluid from the system of the stranger, but the lad still remained unconscious, with such a pale face, with tightly closed eyes, and showing such apparent weakness, that Andy remarked:
“I guess he’s done for, poor fellow!”
“I’m not so sure of that,” responded Frank. “He’s still breathing, and there’s a spark of life in him yet. We must get him to our house, and have a doctor right away. Oh! now’s the time I wish we had a motor boat!”
“We’re doing pretty well,” declared Andy. And indeed the Gull was skimming along at a rapid rate. She was quartering the wind, until a sudden lull in the gale came. They hung there for a moment or two, and the brothers looked anxiously at each other. Were they to be becalmed when it was so vitally necessary to get the stranger to a doctor immediately?