He did not finish the sentence. Instead he half uttered a cry of astonishment, and pointed toward the Albatross. Dick looked, and saw a figure shoot over the rail of his yacht, and fall into the sea with a splash.
"Man overboard! Man overboard!" he yelled, as if those aboard his own swift vessel could hear him.
"Why—why—they're not going to stop to pick him up!" cried Beeby, who was beside his wealthy chum. "They're going to let him drown!"
"He's struggling in the water!" announced Paul Drew.
"Shall I——" began the captain, looking at Dick. The young millionaire knew what was meant. In the name of humanity they must stop and lower a boat to save the man in the sea, for the Albatross was keeping on, at unslackened speed. Dick hesitated. The Golconda was nearing the struggling figure. To stop meant that his yacht ahead would draw further away—she might so increase her distance that it would be impossible to catch up to her before dark—and then—Dick knew the chances were slim of ever seeing his craft again. Yet he hesitated only for a moment.
"Lay to, and lower a boat, captain," he said quietly. "We can't let the poor fellow drown." No one knew what it cost Dick to say those words.
The engine room telegraph clanged out an order to slow up. Almost at once the effect was apparent. The Albatross seemed to shoot ahead. A boat was quickly lowered from the Golconda, and the Spanish sailors soon had rescued the man in the water. A limp and wet figure he lay in the bottom of the small craft, as it was rowed back to the steamer's side. Dick was gazing at his fast-fleeing yacht, and he could scarcely keep down a lump in his throat. There was a mist before his eyes. He thought she was gone forever.
The rescued man was hauled up on deck.
"Get under way as quickly as you can, captain," ordered Dick, as the boat was hoisted to the davits. "We may catch them yet."