CHAPTER VII
IN THE HOUR OF DESPAIR
Dave did not hear the wild, hoarse alarm. A mass of water pounded in his ears. He felt himself going down as though headed for the bottom of the sea.
During what seemed an interminable interval Darrin kept his mouth tightly shut. He did not struggle to rise to the surface, for he knew that as soon as the driving force of the water over him had expended itself his belt would carry him up to air.
And so it did. As Darrin shook the spray from his eyes he made out the "Grigsby" only as a dark mass far ahead. Then a wave blotted her out. When next he looked he saw nothing. The third time he made out a still more indistinct mass, which, he judged, was turning to come back and look for him.
"Steady, boy!" he urged himself. "The outfit aboard that craft will make every possible effort to find me. Ah, I knew it!"
For now the ray of the searchlight streamed out, trying to pierce the murkiness of the night.
"Commanding officer overboard!"