Roy grabbed the mate by the hair and called for help. Nobody heard him. Everybody was swimming for the overturned boat. A long oar was floating near Roy. He grabbed it, and shoving it ahead of him, fought his way to a second oar, towing the mate behind him. The struggle, though brief, was so violent that it almost exhausted him. He got an oar under each of the mate’s arms. Then slowly treading water and holding fast to the two oars himself, he tried to recover his strength.
Presently the mate regained consciousness. He grabbed the oars convulsively. He did not know that Roy was behind him until he tried to swim and his feet struck him. The mate looked around and saw Roy. He comprehended the situation at a glance. Roy had saved his life. He also saw that their best chance lay in getting to the overturned craft.
“To the boat!” he shouted, taking one oar and leaving the other for Roy. Then he struck off toward the life-boat. The two fought their way back to their comrades, all of whom had reached the boat.
They were trying to right it, but the task proved impossible. Evidently there was considerable air under the boat, for her bottom was high out of water and she was riding the waves buoyantly. One by one they crawled up on the boat and lay flat on their bellies, clinging desperately to the heaving craft. Again and again men slid back into the sea. Their comrades pulled them up again. Once every soul was washed overboard by a breaking wave but all got back.
The cold wind chilled them to the bone, benumbing them. In comparison, the sea felt warm. Finally Roy was so cold he could endure it no longer. He slid from the boat’s bottom and gripping her keel, clung just astern. Only his head and arms were above water. Gradually he grew warmer.
Dawn changed to the full light of day. As every wave lifted them up, the shipwrecked mariners could plainly see the land before them. They could even make out the terrific surges as the waves broke on the shores of Mustang and Rockport Islands. They knew, unless the end came sooner, that there was where the pinch would come—when they had reached the long, sloping beach and were being pounded by the terrific surf. For the sea was bearing them slowly toward land.
An hour passed. They were appreciably nearer land though still far from shore. Another hour went by. Now they were near enough to shore to distinguish small objects on land. The breakers were not far distant. It was close to eight o’clock, though no one in the group knew what the hour was, when the sea began suddenly to move shoreward in a mysterious, irresistible fashion. As though power had been applied to it, the overturned boat started toward the land. Roy tried to scramble up on it. A small wave, traveling shoreward with terrific velocity, banged Roy against the craft, then tore him loose from it, swept over the boat, and sped shoreward. The men clung to the boat frantically. Not one was washed off. The mate was still grasping an oar. He flung it to Roy, who grabbed it and tried to swim back to the life-boat. The current swept him away, but both Roy and his comrades were borne rapidly and irresistibly forward, as wave after wave, each higher than its predecessor, rolled in from the sea, carrying everything before them.
Through the blinding spray and the heaving waters, Roy tried to see where he was going. He could feel himself being carried forward at great speed. He knew he must soon come to land. But the thought of the breakers sickened him. The current had drifted him opposite Mustang Island again. Straight in he drove, but the pounding breakers seemed to diminish as Roy drew near them. Then they disappeared altogether. In another minute Roy was floating over what, a short time before, had been Mustang Island. For the first time he realized that he was in the grasp of a tidal wave. Instantly he thought of Galveston and wondered if Corpus Christi was to suffer as its sister city had done.
But he had small opportunity to think about anything save his own safety. Before Roy knew it he was in the midst of a struggling herd of cattle. Even above the roar of the storm he could hear their frenzied bellowing as the sea swept over their grazing-grounds and carried them into Corpus Christi Bay. More dangerous than the sea was the furious struggling of these frantic animals. With all his might Roy strove to get clear of them. Avoiding striking hoof and plunging horn, he swam to one side of the herd, and the current soon swept him clear of them.
But in his flight he lost his oar. He had now only his own exertions to sustain himself. And his violent efforts to get free of the cattle had tired him utterly. He must find something to help float him and find it soon. He began to look about him. The bay was full of wreckage. A dark object rolling in the waves at a distance attracted Roy. It looked like an overturned boat. Roy swam for it. As he approached, a wave partly righted it. Roy saw before him a good-sized launch. It lifted still farther out of water and he caught the name Waldo. Then the craft rolled back until only one side was visible above the flood. But that was enough to sustain Roy, and with a thankful heart he crawled up on the stricken launch and lay down on it at full length.