Phil grabbed him from the back by his shirt and held him so that his head was well above the surface. For a moment he trod water, and then with his helpless burden struck out toward the oncoming boat.
That boat was now coming at a tremendous rate. And there was need for haste. For the keen eyes of the mate standing in the bow had seen something behind the swimmer that thrilled him with horror.
Cleaving the water two hundred yards in the rear was the dorsal fin of a shark. The pirate of the seas had scented prey and was coming toward it with terrible speed.
“Row, men, row,” shouted the mate. “A shark! For God’s sake, row! Put your backs into it. Row! Row!”
The men toiled feverishly at their work and the oars almost bent double.
They were so near now that Phil heard the shout of the mate and looked behind him. He saw that ominous fin, and for an instant his heart stood still. But he never dreamed of relinquishing his burden. With savage energy he lunged forward, straining every muscle in what he knew now was a race for life.
Nearer and nearer came the shark, and nearer and nearer came the boat. Phil set up a tremendous splashing that he hoped would keep the enemy at bay. For an instant it did daunt him, but only for an instant. He was too near victory thus to be balked of his prey. There was a flash of white as he turned on his back and opened his horrible jaws.
Down into those jaws went crashing the end of a heavy oar driven by the brawny arms of the mate. At the same instant, ready hands reached over and dragged Phil and his burden into the boat, where they lay panting and exhausted.
“A close call, son,” gasped the mate, and his men grinned their satisfaction and relief. “You’ve never been so near death as you were that minute. Thought that shark had you sure.”
“And he would have had, if it hadn’t been for you and your men,” said Phil, so exhausted that he could only speak haltingly. “It was your hard work and quick thinking that saved my life, and I can’t thank you enough for it.”