"You can't? You must be as blind as a bat. I can see her sails easily."
Leslie again looked in the direction indicated. He could see nothing but the blurred blending of the sea and sky. Then a sudden fear flashed across his mind. Perhaps his companion's brain was affected by the heat and exposure.
"No doubt you are right, old man," he said. "I'm afraid I can't see it now; but when it comes a bit closer let me know."
Leslie was fully alert by this time. Sitting down and propping his shoulder against one side of the skylight, he narrowly watched his chum.
A couple of minutes passed, then Guy gave vent an exclamation of disappointment.
"I can't see the vessel now!" he declared. "She couldn't have disappeared. But everything is turning a funny colour."
Leslie looked into his companion's eyes. The "whites" were bloodshot.
"You've got a touch of sunstroke, I'm afraid," he said, as calmly as possible. "Look here, let's both go to sleep for a few hours. Should any vessel come within a mile or so of us, they'll spot our signal of distress."
Guy required no persuasion. He was already on the point of collapse. Five minutes later both lads were in a deep slumber, drifting aimlessly and unconsciously upon the surface of the North Sea.