As the Algonquin climbed to a wave top the entire length of the sloop was disclosed to the lad’s gaze. On her deck he could now plainly see two figures.
“Got a glass?” he inquired of Ike.
“Sure,” responded that individual, floundering forward with a pair of binoculars.
Rob clapped them to his eyes. The figures of Hiram and Tubby Hopkins swam into the field of vision. At the same instant, or so it seemed, Rob made out the wall of green water rushing downward upon the sloop.
While a cry of alarm still quivered upon his lips, the sloop rallied an instant, and then—was wiped out!
The others had pressed forward too, and the Algonquin had, by that time, gotten close enough for them all to witness the marine tragedy.
“Steady, Rob,” exclaimed the major, his hand on Rob’s shoulder, “they may be all right yet.”
Rob’s face was white and set, but he nodded bravely. It seemed impossible that anything living could have escaped from the overwhelming avalanche of water.
Merritt seized the glasses as Rob set them down to take the wheel again. He peered through them with straining eyes.
“Hullo, what’s that off in the water there?” he shouted suddenly, pointing.