Leslie realised the new danger. Even if the two lads could swim clear of the doomed ketch, there was a great risk of being caught by the drift of nets, and, once enmeshed, being carried in them to the bottom by the disappearing vessel.
He remembered having seen during the day that a lifebuoy was resting upon the flat top of the cabin skylight. It had vanished, having been knocked overboard by the tremendous impact. There were two others, lashed to the mizzen shrouds. The cords that bound them were jammed by the action of the moisture and refused to be untied.
Even as Leslie fumbled desperately with the resisting knots, the Laughing Lassie quivered, then in a turmoil of foam and escaping air, slid entirely beneath the surface. Foam, sea, and fog seemed blended into a horrible chaos as Leslie found himself struggling in the water. Although a good swimmer, he was frantic, for the bight of a rope held him entangled. More by chance than design, his efforts to free himself from the rope were successful, only to be quickly followed by a worse predicament.
Already he was about five or six feet below the surface. As he struck out to regain the air, his head came in contact with the ratlines of the mizzen shrouds. It was like being caught in a huge net.
Instinctively he struggled to force his way between the shrouds, but in vain. The Laughing Lassie, sinking deeper every moment, was again dragging him down beneath the surface.
Suddenly a swirl of water, caused by the release of a considerable amount of air trapped in the sinking ship, swept him clear of the shrouds. Dimly he realised that he was free, and feebly he again struck out for the surface.
He could hold his breath no longer. A rush of salt water poured down his throat. At first it irritated him greatly, then the distressing symptoms gave place to a strange and unnatural calm. A thousand incidents of his comparatively short life flashed across his mind. Then everything became blank.
Meanwhile Guy had been more fortunate. Swept apart from his companion as the Laughing Lassie made her final plunge, he found himself swimming for dear life. He had no idea of direction.
His immediate danger lay in the fact that momentarily fragments of wood, casks, and fish "trunks" came bobbing to the surface with terrific violence. Had one of the objects struck him from underneath, the force of the blow would have either killed him outright or deprived him of breath, in which case he would have failed to keep himself afloat.
A few strokes took him out of that particular danger zone, then, realising that he ought not to tire himself by swimming, he made for a large, empty box. Just as he was on the point of grasping it, the box disappeared from view.