In the faint light he became aware of a rush of some ill-defined object through the water. It was the line of corks supporting the drift nets. A few feet nearer and Guy would have been entangled in the meshes and dragged in the track of the sinking vessel.
In spite of his saturated clothing and boots, Guy swam strongly, until, satisfied that another danger had been avoided, he trod water and began to look for another means of support. Then, and only then, he missed his chum.
"Leslie!" he called, as loudly as his well-nigh breathless condition would allow.
He listened intently. There was no reply. In the distance he could detect the rapidly receding thud of the propeller of the vessel which had been the cause of the calamity. For some strange reason it seemed that the tramp was making off.
"The callous brutes!" he murmured.
As a matter of fact, it was ignorance, not callousness on the part of the crew of the colliding vessel. Not a man could speak English, and by the time Skipper Runswick contrived to make anyone understand that two of the Laughing Lassie's crew were missing, the tramp had lost her bearings in the fog.
For a long time she circled slowly, hoping to find the floating d�bris from the sunken ketch, but owing to the darkness and the fog her efforts were in vain. Each complete circle took her well clear of her objective, until, coming to the conclusion that there were no more survivors, her master steadied her on her course for a distant Norwegian port.
Presently Guy saw a barrel floating close to him. This he made for, but the curved surface afforded no grip. After wasting valuable strength in a vain attempt to secure a place of refuge, he gave the barrel up in despair. For some minutes he swam, looking for other flotsam. By this time débris seemed very scarce. He wondered whether he were swimming farther and farther away from the spot where the ketch had disappeared.
Again and again he shouted, but in vain. His staying powers, though good, were being severely taxed. Unless a means of support were speedily forthcoming, his chances of rescue would be rendered still more remote.
Then it occurred to him to get rid of his coat, sweater, and boots. Thanks to previous experience of how to do this—at Guy's school fancy swimming was a favourite pastime—the lad contrived to untie the laces and kick off his boots. The coat was quickly thrown off.