In this situation the young man preserved his presence of mind, holding to Mary with a firm grasp, his right arm round her waist, while with the other he paddled under water, hoping soon to get out of range of the suction force dragging him down.
In about a minute, he became aware that he was ascending with great rapidity, and then comprehended that the whirlpool formed by the sinking craft had subsided, shooting him and his precious charge upward with the bubble caused by the collapsing of the waters.
He was soon at the surface of the sea, to behold his shipmates all around him clinging to spars and fragments.
He swam to a spar near him, and, with the ropes dangling therefrom, lashed the girl to it; then looked down upon her white, upturned face, closed eyes and drooping hair, almost fearing that she was dead!
Far along the waters the light of the volcano, streaming luridly, illumined that pale face and shining hair with unearthly radiance.
"Mary, speak to me!" exclaimed the young man. "Tell me that you are alive—that you hear me calling you!"
Vain the supplication. Her closed lips remained mute, the eyes were not opened, the sad pallor of the face remained unchanged.
Suddenly he became aware of a noise like a porpoise blowing, and turning, beheld Tom Turk, who had just risen alongside of him, clinging to the same spar to which he hung.
"Phew, bless my eyes!" ejaculated the old sailor, "this is sartinly a most uncomfortable siterwation for them as has always sarved their captins faithful."
Then he looked closely at the young girl.