The boys, when the bell strokes were counting 10 o’clock, were still in the vessel’s bow, where they had been since the early evening, talking of the many dangers that lurked in the misty nooks of these turbulent waters.
“I guess I’ll turn in,” yawned Billy. “This craft is an awful drag; it’s been acting like a street car on an avenue with two hundred crossings. Come on, fellows.”
The words were hardly spoken, when the deck beneath them gave a sickening heave, with a deafening roar in its wake.
The time-worn boilers in the engine room had rebelled at last, and, bursting, they split the seasoned fabric that immediately confined them into countless pieces.
By the upheaval the boys were violently thrown over the deck railing and into the churning water below.
Breathless and half-stunned, they instinctively struck out in swimming stroke, and from them the wreck drifted away into the darkness.
Weighted down by the heavy belts, in addition to their clothing, the swimmers were soon exhausted.
The end was near!
They swam close together, anticipating it.
One more despairing reach for life—and life was there!