CHAPTER VI OVERBOARD IN THE DARK
Down, down, down into the chilling water went Alec. So confused was he that he did not know which way was down and which was up. He opened his eyes but the muddy water was inky black and he could see nothing. So sudden and unexpected had been the attack that he had not had time even to catch his breath before he sank beneath the water. Immediately he began to suffer for air.
Instinctively Alec struck out, but after a few strokes he stopped swimming. He was recovering his wits rapidly, and he realized that it was worse than useless to try to swim until he knew in which direction he was going. He might swim under a scow or boat and be drowned. It was fortunate indeed that Alec ceased swimming when he did, for the tide and his own efforts were taking him directly under a big oyster-float. The instant he stopped swimming, the lifting force of the water shot him upward. It was high time he got his head above water, for his lungs seemed about to burst. He knew he could not hold his breath much longer.
With quick wit he raised his hands above his head the instant he felt himself rising. And it was well he did so. Hardly had he lifted them before he crashed into one of the great timbers of the oyster-float. The impact almost broke his fingers; and although his hands lessened the force of the blow, nevertheless he bumped his head so hard that for an instant he was dazed. His extended hands alone had saved him from being knocked senseless and drowned. For a second he lost control of himself and swallowed some water. Sudden terror clutched his heart. He realized that in another moment he might drown. Wildly, frantically, he clawed at the timber above him. One hand met solid wood wherever it moved. But the other shot upward into the free air. With his last remaining ounce of strength Alec dragged himself from under the log that formed the edge of the float and pulled himself up until his nose was above water.
Shuddering, gasping, gulping in both air and water, Alec clung to the log desperately. Panic took possession of him. He tried to cry out, but succeeded only in swallowing more water. Wildly he clutched the float and tried to draw himself up on it; but the great round log, slippery with mud and slime, gave him not the slightest finger hold. Almost exhausted and nearly paralyzed with cold, he slipped back into the water. But his hands still rested on the log.
Then he took a grip on himself and choked back the wave of fear that was chilling his heart worse than the cold water was numbing his muscles. He let his body sink in the flood until only his nose and eyes were above water; and clinging to the log, he remained perfectly still for a moment to recruit his waning strength. Meantime his mind and his eyes were both busy.
By this time his eyes were free from water and accustomed to the darkness. He could see fairly well. A hasty glance showed him a long line of floats, oyster-boats, scows, and similar craft moored parallel with the shore. He was in the smooth water between float and shore and only a few yards distant from solid ground. With that realization a wave of courage swept over Alec that seemed almost to warm him. For now he knew he should get out all right. He had only to swim the little distance between float and shore and he was safe.
Boldly he struck out, and a few strokes carried him close to the bank. His foot touched bottom. He swam another stroke or two and put his feet down to walk ashore. Then he gave a cry of terror as he felt himself sinking down, down, down into the terrible, black, clinging mud. He tried to raise his foot, but only sank the deeper. Already he was in mud above his knees, and his nose was frightfully close to the surface of the water. Through his head flashed the memory of the oyster stakes in the muddy bottom of the Bay—six feet deep in the mud, so Sailor Bishop had told him, and held so tight that they could not be pulled out. A fresh wave of fear swept over him.
But he fought desperately to keep his wits. He realized that his broad shoes would not go down into the mud like the sharpened ends of poles. He stood perfectly still to see whether or not he was still sinking deeper. When he realized that he was not, he could have shouted for joy. The tide was running out, and the water would not come up over his head, even if the mud did hold him prisoner for a time. But soon he realized that cold could kill him quite as effectively as water. For now that the fear of drowning had left him, he became conscious of the fact that he was shaking all over and that his teeth were chattering terribly. He must get out and get out at once. But how should he get out? He dared not move, lest he sink deeper into the mud. And there did not appear to be a soul anywhere around. There were no lights near. It was supper time, and everybody had gone home for the night.
Suddenly he heard the steady put-put-put of a motor-boat coming up the river. The sound drew near.