It was a time of great peril, but there was aid such as neither Josh nor Will had counted upon close at hand.
“I’ll keep him afloat till I’m tired,” Josh had said hoarsely, “and then you must have a turn. You can manage to make the shore, can’t you?”
“Yes,” said Will; “but we—we mustn’t leave him, Josh.”
“Who’s going to?” growled Josh fiercely. “You keep aside me.”
They swam on, every stroke making the water flash, and the phosphorescence, like pale golden oil, sweep aside and ripple and flow upon the surface. The sky was now almost black but quite ablaze with stars, and the big lamp at the pierhead sent its cheery rays out, as if to show them the way to go, but in the transparent darkness it seemed to be miles upon miles away, while the sturdy swimmers felt as if they got no nearer, toil as they might.
“I’m going to give him over to you, lad,” said Josh in his sing-song voice, for he had calmed down now. “I’ll soon take him again, lad, but—”
“Hooray, Josh!” cried back Will; and he struck off to the left.
“What is it, lad?”
“Boat! the boat!”
Josh wrenched himself up in the water, and looked over Dick, to see, dimly illumined by the golden ripples of the water, the outline of the boat, flush with the surface, its shape just seen by the phosphorescence, and he bore towards it.