"You are cold, my dear, I know," said the Englishman to his wife. "Are you suffering otherwise?"
"No; but though I would not willingly drown myself, I shall not be sorry when we give up and go down."
"Had I felt that way the last time I found myself in the water," spoke up Dave, "I would not be here now."
"You had on a life belt. Now none of us has," answered the Englishwoman, her teeth chattering. "We cannot last long."
"After my last experience, madam," Dave assured her, "I shall never dare say that as long as life lasts."
"Why not face facts calmly?" she asked. "Probably I shall last a quarter of an hour before I die of cold. I may survive for twenty minutes or a little longer. You are strong, and may keep up for an hour or more. What can possibly come to our aid in that short time?"
"Who can say?" was Dave's counter-question.
For some time, they swam in silence. They did not attempt to make progress. Motion enough to keep afloat was all that was called for.
All at once Dave wondered whether his eyes were playing him tricks, or whether he really saw the top of a conning tower approaching him. It was not likely that the enemy would remain about, and come back to see how it fared with the victims of their cruelty.
Then the something in the water took on another vague shape. Darrin shook his head in an effort to get the water out of his eyes. He peered again. The shape, whatever it was, and if it really existed, was beginning to get on his nerves. It seemed to come nearer.