"Ha, here comes one of the destroyers, right now," Dave laughed, hysterically, as a form loomed up in the night and came toward him.
Indeed, that dark mass, which presently resolved itself into the hull of a steamship battling with the gale, seemed bent on running him down.
Nearer and nearer it came. Dave tried to shout, but found his voice too weak to be heard above the roar of wind and wave. Though he fought desperately to get out of the course of the oncoming hull, the rolling waters washed him back.
His efforts, however, had availed him somewhat, for, though he was so close that he could almost touch the hull as the bow passed him, Darrin felt that he could avoid being run down by the ship.
He tried to shout again, but only hoarse noises came from his throat. Then something splashed close to him as it struck the water. A wave washed Darrin against a rope. With all the force left in his hands he twined his fingers around the strands.
Then, though Dave did not see it, a face peered over the rail above. There came a tug at the rope, but Dave would not let go. He found himself being dragged slowly along with the hull of this craft that was battling a head wind.
When the man above found that he could not haul up the rope he peered down at the water, then set up a yell in some strange jargon.
An instant later a second face appeared behind the first. The bright gleam of a pocket flash-lamp cut the blackness to the water. There was a second exclamation, quickly followed by a command.
A third man joined the other two at the rail. Dave blinked upward at the pocket flash-lamp. He saw something descending, heard a faint whish above the noise of the gale, and felt a noose drop down over his head and shoulders.
Just how he did it Darrin cannot remember, even now, but he managed to slip that noose first under one arm pit, then the other, all the time keeping a desperate hold of the trailing rope.