Quite near now came the hail: "We are wrecked on a big rock here. Come and help us. The tide's coming up and we'll be washed off. Please hurry!" The voice dwindled off into nothing as if the speaker was in deadly fear and had no breath to state his troubles further.
"Jiminy crickets!" said Jimmy. "We are not in much of a way to help any one, but we've got to do something for that fellow. Give me the painter. I can see the outline of the rock. Let me take the rope and I'll jump overboard and tow her. You handle the rudder, Frank."
Frank was about to object to this arrangement, preferring to take the cold bath himself, when Jimmy grabbed the rope's end and dived overboard. He struck out for the rock, which was outlined by a line of white where the running tide fringed its edge.
The boys on the boat watched anxiously as he ploughed along. It was a small pull at best that he could give the Black Duck, but as both were going with the current, the pull that he did give was sufficient to guide the craft in the direction of the dark mass just ahead.
"Look out, Frank, I'm touching," shouted Jimmy over his shoulder. "Pull your rudder sharp over to starboard."
Frank did as he was bid and the nose of the Black Duck barely grazed a big black boulder just awash.
"There, keep her steady," Jimmy commanded. "Let the tide carry her up and I'll pull her around into this little cove."
"She'll bump, won't she?" queried Frank anxiously.
"No, it looks like deep water there just behind that rock you missed, and the pull of the tide won't bother much. I'll hitch this painter here."
Jimmy finished his work and straightened up, peering into the darkness, from which came a plaintive voice: