His sharp eyes had discerned a small boat almost hidden in a little cove some distance away at the bottom of a steep declivity that was the beginning of the cliff. It could not be reached by going along the shore, and the boys saw that they would have to go along the high ground and then descend to it, for a huge rock that jutted out of the deep water cut the cove off from the more open part of the beach.
They left their motorcycles on the side of the road and hurried back up the slope, then cut down across a narrow strip of weeds and grass until they came to the top of the declivity. They could still see the victim of the explosion struggling in the waves. The man had seized a piece of wreckage and was able to remain afloat, but the boys knew it was only a matter of time before his strength would give out.
“Looks to be almost all in,” remarked Frank.
“I wonder if he’s anybody we know,” came from his brother.
“It isn’t likely.” Frank reached out suddenly and caught hold of Joe’s arm. “Look out there or you may break a leg.”
“It certainly is mighty slippery,” answered Joe, as he managed to regain his footing. He had come close to going heels over head on the rocks.
Slipping and scrambling, they made their way down the slope toward the little cove. Rocks went rolling and tumbling ahead of them. The distance was only a few yards, but the slope was steep and a false step might result in broken bones.
But they reached the bottom in safety and there they came upon the rowboat. It was battered and old, but evidently still seaworthy.
“Into the water with her!” said Frank.
They seized the boat and the keel grated on the shingle as the little craft was launched. Swiftly, they fixed the oars in the locks and then they scrambled into their places.