"Come on, Sam," shouted Jack, as the boys lugged the two dripping, sputtering castaways on board.
"I—I can't swim. You'll have to come alongside for me," stuttered the badly-scared Sam.
"All right. Hold on, and we'll do what we can," hailed Rob, starting to carry out the risky maneuver of getting alongside the plunging hydroplane in the heavy sea.
In some never-to-be-explained manner, however, the frightened Sam suddenly lost his balance in the tossing racing boat, and, clawing desperately at her bulwarks to save himself, shot over the side.
"He'll drown!" shouted Jack Curtiss. "He can't swim, and he'll drown."
"If you knew that, why didn't you stand by him?" truculently growled Tubby.
Without an instant's hesitation, Merritt threw off the jacket he had put on when it started to blow, and slipped off his shoes. He was overboard and striking out for the drowning boy before those in the Flying Fish even realized his purpose.
With swift, powerful strokes he got alongside Sam just as the owner of the hydroplane was going down for the third time.
As the brave boy seized the struggling, frightened youth he felt himself gripped by the panic-stricken Sam in a frenzied hold of desperate intensity. His arms were pinioned by the drowning wretch, and they both vanished beneath the waves.
As they went under, however, Merritt managed to get one hand free, and recalling what he had read of what to do under such conditions, struck the other boy a terrific blow between the eyes. It stunned Sam completely, and, to his great relief, Merritt felt the imprisoning grip relax. He could then handle Sam easily, and as they shot to the surface he saw the Flying Fish bearing down on them, with four white, strained faces searching the tumbling waters.