Guy managed the task at the cost of an additional amount of water which poured over the sill of the skylight.
A hurried examination revealed the fact that Leslie was still alive. Another problem confronted the rescuer. Ought he to bale out the remaining quantity of water or at once proceed to revive the unconscious lad?
At first he decided upon the latter course, but on propping Leslie in one corner of the skylight he found that the erratic motion caused him to slide inertly into he water on the floor. Setting to work, Guy soon disposed of the water, and again turned his attention to his patient.
A quarter of an hour later Leslie opened his eyes and gazed dully around him.
"Hullo!" he exclaimed feebly. "What's up? Ah, I remember—but where am I?"
"All right," said Guy consolingly. "We'll be picked up before very long."
An hour passed. By this time the warmth of the sun began to make itself felt, and the two youths were able to discard their sodden clothing and spread it out to dry.
The fog had disappeared. Only a slight haze obscured the horizon. The sea was calm, and almost as smooth as glass, only a sullen swell remaining to remind them hat they were far out to sea, and not upon some landlocked estuary or lake.
"I could do with something to drink," remarked Leslie, who, rapidly recovering from the effects of his immersion, was beginning to feel a burning thirst from the salt water he had swallowed.
"So could I," agreed Guy. "I wish I hadn't tackled the skipper's salt pork. That's what has done it."