“Save my boy!” cried one of the men. “Don’t mind us; we can both swim.”
“All right; I’ll do what I can,” was my reply.
Looking about, I discovered the body of the little fellow some distance back. I tried to tack, but it could not be done, the wind being too strong from the opposite direction.
“He is going down!” went on the father in agonized tones that pierced my heart. “Oh, save him! save him!” And he made a strong effort to reach the spot himself; but the weight of his clothes was against him, and I knew he could not cover the distance before it would be too late. I was a first-class swimmer, and in a second had decided what to do.
With a bang I allowed the mainsail to drop, and threw over the anchor, which I knew would catch on the rocky bottom twelve or fifteen feet below.
Then I kicked off my boots, ripped off my vest and coat, and sprang to the stern. A single glance showed me where the boy had just gone down, and for this spot I dived head first.
I passed under the water some ten or a dozen feet. When I came to the surface I found the little fellow close beside me. He was kicking at a terrible rate, and I could see he had swallowed considerable of the fresh liquid of which the lake was constituted.
“Don’t kick any more,” I said; “I will save you. Here, put your arms around my neck.”
“I want papa and mamma,” he cried, spitting out some of the water.
“I’ll take you to them if you’ll do as I tell you.”