The flying-boat vanished from the surface of the sea as if she had been a smudge wiped off a slate with a sponge.
[CHAPTER XVIII—A LEAP FOR A LIFE]
Had the lone navigator of the craft perished when she gave the last swift and decisive plunge to the bottom? A groan that went up from the decks of the Tropic Queen, which had steamed quite close, seemed to indicate that the enthralled onlookers thought so.
But suddenly Jack gave a shout:
“There he is! Over there! Pull for your lives, men!”
The brawny arms of the oarsmen needed no encouragement. Every man bent to his work till the stout ash sweeps curved and their backs cracked.
The boat flew across the water to a tiny, bobbing, black dot, the head of the castaway aviator. As they drew closer, they could see his face turned toward them imploringly. He was a young man, black-haired and apparently good-looking, although they did not pay much attention to his appearance just then.
As they drew alongside, his strength suddenly seemed to give out after the brave struggle he had made, and he disappeared under the water. Even as he did so, a figure leaped from the boat in a long, clean dive. When Jack, for it was the young wireless man who had made the daring leap, reappeared, he held in his arms the body of the half-drowned man.
He held in his arms the body of the half-drowned man.