The moments that followed were the most terrible that Jack had ever known in his adventurous life at sea. Cast adrift in the dark night and wild sea, he was at first completely bewildered. The very suddenness with which the end of the Barley Rig had come had benumbed him.
But ere long, the blind instinct of life asserted itself. He struck out, hoping to find some wreckage with which to sustain himself, for in that rolling, breaking sea, he could not have hoped to remain afloat long without some support.
Wave after wave swept over the bravely battling lad, half choking him in spite of the fact that he was an experienced and powerful swimmer.
“Great Scott!” he thought with dismay. “If I can’t find some support to cling to before long, I’m a goner. This is the worst ever.”
In addition to the difficulty of fighting the baffling waves, Jack now began to experience a fresh obstacle to keeping afloat. The weight of the heavy money belt at his waist seemed to be drawing him remorselessly down toward the depths.
At first, he had difficulty in accounting for the leaden feeling that possessed him after being a short time in the water. But suddenly he recalled the money belt with its weight of gold.
“I’ll stick it out as long as I can,” resolved the boy, “and then unfasten the buckle and let the money sink.”
A section of wreckage came within his grasp at that moment. He made a wild grab for it, but a great wave swept it beyond his reach. He began to feel numb and chilled and utterly incapable of battling for his life much longer. An odd, reckless feeling of indifference came over him. His movements became automatic, no longer consciously directed.
Suddenly he recollected the money belt that dragged at his body like a leaden weight. He fumbled with the buckle with one hand while he trod water. But the strap proved obdurate. His chilled fingers could not undo it.
“It is the end,” murmured the exhausted boy. “I’m all in, and can’t keep up the fight any longer.”