Meantime the pleading voice on the other side of the channel kept calling for the rescuers to make haste. It was filled with a deadly anxiety, as well it might be, for the tide was pouring in from the sea with full power, gushing and eddying among the nooks and crannies of the big rock which obstructed its path. It sounded strangely like a low hum of voices and had a sinister and threatening tone, like the tone of a mob.
"I don't like the look of this channel a little bit," said Jimmy as he and Frank worked their careful way across the slimy rock, occasionally slipping and grabbing each other for support. Now they reached the edge of the swiftly running channel.
"Nothing to do but try it," said Frank. "If these shipwrecked people can't swim, we will be as badly off as ever. Come on, here goes."
Frank waded out to his waist in the swift current. The water tugged and pulled at him as if bent on destroying him. Suddenly he found himself beyond his depth and began to swim. Jimmy was at his elbow. The water caught them with its full force and whirled them along. But in spite of the current they made progress across it, and puffing and panting they pulled up on a shelving part of the main body of the rock, and staggered to their feet.
The shipwrecked boys, seeing their rescuers at hand, rushed down to them shouting for joy, but the leader of the two staggered back as he came face to face with Frank.
"Frank Armstrong!" he gasped.
"Peters!" cried Frank and Jimmy in a breath. "Great Scott!" said the former, "we didn't know it was you."
"Please don't go away and leave me," whined Peters. "We're in an awful fix."
"We don't intend to go and leave you, but we are in a bad fix ourselves."
"Please take us off here," continued Peters. There were tears in his voice.