Of the men of the wreck who had been tumbled into the sea along with them, some clung to their rescuers, whose belts could easily sustain two. Others were able to lay hold of the boat, and a few held on to the floating wreckage till they were saved.
Suddenly the voice of Captain Millet was heard, “Hold on, lads; don’t go without me. My foot’s jammed here, and I can’t—”
He stopped abruptly, for the head of the mast plunged under water at the moment, taking the captain along with it.
Without a word Jeff rose and sprang into the sea at the spot where his friend had disappeared. Almost at the same moment the end of the mast re-appeared, and struck our hero on the side with terrible violence. In spite of the blow, however, he was able to free the captain, who was caught by several strong arms, and hauled inboard at the same moment that his rescuer laid hold of one of the hanging life-lines.
While they were still heaving at the captain, David Bowers heard Jeff’s voice—
“Your hand, Davy!”
The stout coastguardsman was not slow to obey and he received a grip like that of a drowning man; but his mate made no other effort to save himself.
“Help here, two of you,” cried Bowers.
Another moment, and six brawny arms embraced Jeff, and lifted him into the boat.
“Not hurt, I hope, Jeff?”