But the boy preferred to go overboard in the harbor, where he stood a chance—a bare chance—of rescue. He did not see the pilot-boat that dashed by just then, but he saw the light-ship riding at her anchorage a short distance away, and without pausing to take another look at the angry waters, for fear that the sight of them would be too much for his courage, he sprang into the air. The mate reached the side just a minute too late. The deserter was well out of his way.
"That's the end of him, sir," said he, turning to the captain.
"Let the pilot-boat take care of him," said the latter gruffly. "I can't stop to bother with him."
This was all that was said aboard the White Squall, and nothing whatever was done to aid the deserter; but the pilot-boat officers had more humanity. As soon as their vessel could be thrown up into the wind a boat was put into the water, and for half an hour or more the crew pulled about in various directions, looking for Roy, who was swimming for the light-ship with slow and easy strokes. He was by all odds the best swimmer in Mount Airy, and his skill and long wind stood him well in hand now. He was badly frightened at first when the waves broke over his head and bore him under, but he always came to the surface in time to catch the next one, which not only carried him rapidly toward his haven of refuge, but kept him afloat long enough to get his breath and fill his lungs for the next plunge.
Roy afterward said that that long swim in rough water was more like a dream than a reality. When he found that he had no trouble in keeping on top of the water long enough to breathe fully and freely, but two ideas filled his mind. One was to reach the light-ship before his strength gave out; the second to lose no time, after he got ashore, in doing something for Bob and Tony who were being carried away in that unseaworthy ship. He was afterwards sorry that he wasted so much sympathy upon them.
About the time the pilot-boat's crew began to despair of picking up the deserter, and filled away to the city to tell the story of his "deliberate suicide" to eager reporters, who published it in their papers the next morning, and Roy was becoming weary of buffeting the waves, the swim was ended and help speedily came. A friendly billow threw him against one of the swaying hawsers that kept the light-ship in place, and the boy held fast to it.
"Boat ahoy!" yelled Roy, with all the strength of his lungs.
An instant later the sagging of the cable soused him under; but the wind caught up his voice and carried it across the intervening space to the deck of the light-ship, and when Roy came up again he saw a couple of tarpaulins above her rail, and as many lanterns hanging over the side.
"Where away?" shouted a voice, that somewhat resembled the deep bass of a fog-horn.