Dan gave a wig-wag signal with one hand, meaning “help.”
By this time the small boats had drifted too far away to be able to reach them quickly.
But steamer number one had reached the scene. She gave a short, sharp blast of her whistle to show that those aboard had seen and understood the situation.
“Is he lost?” gasped Sam.
“N-n-no. I’ve got him at the end of the rope. Help me quick. He must be dead by this time. There comes the steamer. Oh, why don’t they hurry?”
“Where is the rope?”
“Here! Help me with it. I’m getting tired.”
Dan was holding to the rope with all his strength, trying to retain his hold of it and at the same time keep himself from sinking. Some invisible power seemed to be pulling him downward.
The ensign and his oarsman had gotten aboard the steamer, trailing their wherry behind it. The ensign was standing in the bow with a rope in his hand.
As the steamer, lifting on a great swell, dropped down within reaching distance he made a cast. Dan reached for the rope and missed it.