“I say,” I cried, “my bundle’s just like a cork, and holds me up beautiful. How are yours?”
Bob Chowne panted out that his was better, and to prove hew good and buoyant his was Bigley thrust it before him, and swam after it, giving it pushes as he went.
All this took up our attention for a little while from the horror of our position, for a horrible position it was indeed. It was a glorious sunny day, and sea and sky were beautiful, but the fierce current that set off from the point was sweeping us rapidly away, and it was only a question of how long we could keep on swimming—a quarter of an hour, half an hour, an hour—and then first one and then another must sink, unless in our efforts to save the first weak one we all went down together, and the glittering sea flowed over our heads with only a few bubbles of air to show where we had been.
We must have been swimming twenty minutes when Bigley uttered a shout, and looking up, Bob and I for the first time caught sight of a little dinghy coming towards us, and far beyond it the lugger lying with her sails flapping in the breeze.
The boat was a long way off, but the man in it had evidently seen us, and was coming down to our help, and a thrill of exultation ran through me, as I struck out more vigorously to reach the haven of safety.
The minute before we were all swimming steadily and well, but the sight of help coming seemed to have completely unnerved us, and in place of taking slow long regular strokes, and steady inspirations, with the sides of our heads well down in the water, we all quickened our strokes and strained our heads above the surface, while, as if moved by the same thought, we all together shouted “Boat!”
“Ahoy!” came back from what seemed a terrible distance, and the feeling of fear I had begun to experience increased more and more.
A couple of minutes earlier I had not thought about the distance I could swim, but had kept on swimming. Now I could think of nothing else but was it possible that I could keep on long enough for the boat to reach me; and, instead of steadily trying to decrease the distance, and so help the boatman, I began to make very bad progress indeed.
“Hooray!” shouted Bigley just then. “Keep up, boys, and don’t lose your bundles. It’s father, and he’ll soon pick us up.”
Bundles?—bundles? Where was my bundle?