But she only succeeded in getting thoroughly weary. Try as she might, her little head would sink. Then a big comber found her cross-wise in the trough of the sea and proceeded to roll and pound her unmercifully and stand her on her head. She came up gasping from an unknown depth, and struggled frantically. King heard a smothered cry.
“Steady, Billee!” he yelled. “Coming! Coming!” His arms literally tore the resisting water from his path. She caught his shoulder with one hand, gasping. He had turned instantly on his back, prepared for the struggle.
“Rest your weight on me, Billee!—both hands!—both hands!” he shouted. (You have to be positive with panicky people.) “Let your body float free!”
“Help me, King—I’m—I’m—”
“Steady, girl! Are you really all in?”
“So far”—she choked, “but I’m—I’m—” Gurgle.
“No, you’re not!”
“I am!—I am!—I am!—Oh!—Oh!—”
“Don’t lose your nerve, child!”
“Nerve!” screamed Billee, “it isn’t my nerve!—I’m losing!—I’m losing—” But water filled her mouth.