The next instant Nat felt himself hurtling through the air, uttering a choked cry.
But his shout was drowned as the water closed above his head. His last recollection, as he sank, was of a shrill and terrible cry mingling with and overpowering his own appeal. It was the same cry that they had heard twice before, and, for a third time, in the air above them.
Nat, who was a strong and self-possessed swimmer, came to the surface almost at once after his submersion and at once looked about for the schooner. But, to his horror, he now saw what he had not observed before, and that was that the vessel was moving quite smartly through the water.
"Help! Help! Help!" shouted Nat, treading water.
But his cry was unheard.
In a perfect agony of fear and apprehension as to his future fate, he watched the schooner slip off into the now light-hanging mist and vanish!
The boy was alone in the Pacific solitude with nothing but his own strength to rely on, and Nat knew that long before he could be picked up his powers would have been exhausted. It was the most trying moment of all his life, and Nat, as we know, had faced grave perils in his career.
But the young Motor Ranger was in a position in which thinking could accomplish nothing—action was the thing.
Treading water, so as to conserve all his strength, he looked about him. For a brief interval he had cherished a hope that he might catch a glimpse of the "Nomad" in the now clearing atmosphere. But this hope proved to be a chimera. No trace of the power cruiser was to be seen.
Nat gave a low groan.