Alex ran to the motor hold. “Man overboard,” he yelled. “Stop her and back up.” Case had been laughing over the joke on Ike, but his face grew suddenly pale as Ike’s head appeared above the surface, his arms grasping at the air.
“Why, he can’t swim a stroke,” he cried.
But Alex had realized that fact more quickly. In a flash he had slashed away the laces of his shoes and kicking them off his feet, dived far out over the rail. Just after he leaped, he saw a white flash passing above him. As he came to the surface, he saw Captain Joe, loyal and faithful, though wounded and weak, swimming twenty feet in front of him. It was Captain Joe also who first saw the black head and seizing the long hair in his teeth, strove valiantly to hold it above the surface. A few strokes brought Alex to their side, and with the quickness that he had learned by desperate experience, he relieved the panting animal of his burden. Ike, after the manner of drowning people, strove to drag Alex down with him to the depths below, but Alex was expecting that and clinching his little freckled fist he drove it with all the force he could summon, just under the drowning lad’s jaw. Ike loosed his grip and hung limp as a rag. Alex gave a sigh of relief, and rolling over on his back, drew the other up over him so that Ike’s head was raised above the water. In this position he could not swim. It took all his strength to sustain their bodies above the water. He knew his companions would come to their assistance but would they be in time. The icy cold water was striking a chill to his blood. Could he last that long? He dreaded the cold that was boring into his very bones.
His friends were loyal to his faith in them. The moment Alex spoke Clay threw off the switch shutting off the power, but the Rambler’s momentum was so great that he did not dare to reverse the engine immediately; to do so would have stripped the gears and made the engine helpless. So soon as he dared, however, he threw on the switch and shoved forward the reverse lever. The Rambler stopped suddenly and under full speed tore her way backwards to where the three, fighting for their lives, lay 400 feet astern. As the Rambler backed swiftly down upon them. Clay gradually shut down the power and finally stopped her short twenty feet from the straggling, drowning ones. Calling to Case to leave the wheel and come to his assistance, Clay sprang out of the motor hold and snatching up the stern fine, flung an end of it over Alex’s face. Alex, by exerting all his strength, managed to shift so as to pass a couple of turns around Ike’s body just below the arm pits. “Hoist him up and then take Captain Joe up. He’s about all in.” Alex rolled over again on his back to float, floating took so little exertion. He was surprised to find how warm and comfortable he was becoming. True, his feet were sinking and would soon drag his head under water, but what did he care. He was warm and comfy and was getting deliciously sleepy. Something hit him across the face and he brushed it off dreamily. As his head slowly sank beneath the surface, something fastened in his hair and dragged his mouth above water. He opened his eyes dreamingly to look into Captain Joe’s loyal, loving eyes. In one corner of his mouth Joe carried the end of the rope. With the last bit of reserve of his strength, he twisted the rope around one arm and with the other clasped Captain Joe around his thick neck. He felt himself being pulled violently forward—then came darkness and a void.
When he came to he was lying in his own bunk with warm blankets piled over him and Clay trying to force a cup of hot coffee down his throat, while Case and Ike stood near with a suspicious moisture on their eye lashes.
“What are you sniffling for?” he demanded crossly of Case and Ike, for his whole body was sick and aching.
“We’re not sniffling,” replied Case, hotly, with a boy’s disgust at being caught in a display of sentiment “We are just sweating from working over you so hard.”
“My noble preserver,” said Ike, dramatically, “I owe my life to you but how can I reward you? How can I ever repay you for your so nobly risking your life for mine? This lump on my jaw that you gave me will always remind me of your noble action.”
But Alex had had all the sentiment he could bear. “Shut up,” he snapped. “I didn’t go after you. I went after Captain Joe. He’s a valuable dog. If you want any more souvenirs of your little wetting, I’ll give you one on the other jaw, and as soon as they go down I’ll give you fresh ones. Oh, I’ll keep your memory fresh and green. Gee, I’ll give you the other one now,” he declared, throwing off his blankets, but Ike had fled at the first signs of war. Alex chanted after him, with a grin:
“Mush, mush, mush,
Always to be taken with
A tablespoon of gush.
Mush in the morning
Slush at night
If I don’t get my mush
I’m bound to get tight.”