He could hear no answer save the mocking wind and the breaking of the water. This latter sound made him think the shore was not far distant. But when, after a few moments, he did not feel the bottom, his heart sank. He had been lost in the woods and as a tenderfoot he had known the feeling of panic despair. And he had been in the ocean and seen his ship go down with a torpedo's jagged rent in her side. But he had never been lost in the water in the sense of losing all his bearings in the darkness. For a minute it quite unnerved him and his stout heart sank within him.
Then out of the tumult came a thin, spent voice, barely audible and seeming a part of the troubled voices of the night.
"——lost——," it said; "——going down——"
Tom listened eagerly, his heart still, his blood cold within him.
"Keep calling," he answered, "so I'll know where you are. I'll get to you all right—keep your nerve."
He listened keenly, ready to challenge the force of the storm with all his young skill and strength, and thinking of naught else now. But no guiding voice answered.
Could he have heard aright? Surely, there was no mistaking. It was a human voice that had spoken and whatever else it had said that one, tragic word had been clearly audible:
"——down——"
Archer had gone down.