The skipper glanced at the little craft bobbing up and down in the distance.
“Well, it depends on how well you can handle a canoe,” he replied. “There’s a fresh breeze, though, and it’s kind of choppy.”
Jack had been thinking of taking a reef in his mainsail, but a few moments later he was glad he hadn’t. He had run about a cable’s length from the landing, and the passengers were watching a salt-bark slowly drifting to anchorage, when his eyes happened to alight on the canoe. It was perhaps half a mile away, and Jack’s thoughts were on the navigation of his own boat, but the brief glance showed him something amiss. With a shout to George to haul in the sheet, he put the helm hard over and jibed the Sea-Lark, rather than make the turn in a safer but slower way. There was a stiff wind blowing, and the boom swept across the deck with a rattle and a bang, fetching up on the other side with a wrench. But the gear stood the strain, and the sloop was now racing in the direction of the canoe, which had capsized.
There was a sudden cry of alarm from the lady. “He’s drowning! He’s drowning!” Every vestige of color was gone from her face, as, leaning forward, she stared in horror across the water. “It’s Rodney! It’s my boy!”
“Lay hold of that boat-hook, George,” sang out the captain. And then, “We’ll get him in time, ma’am,” he added reassuringly to the distracted mother.
The Sea-Lark leaned to the breeze and flew on her mission of rescue. That she would arrive none too soon was evident to all on board. Apparently the boy in the water was no swimmer, and his floundering efforts were barely keeping his head above the surface. A choking appeal for help came across the rapidly narrowing water that intervened.
“Take the wheel, George!” Jack spoke crisply, imperatively. “Keep her straight!” As he spoke he slipped off jacket and shoes. “[The moment I jump swing her ’round.] You, sir,” he added, to one of the passengers, “be ready to reach out to me with this boat-hook.”
Another twenty feet! Ten! And then the boy in the water, with a despairing cry, sank from sight. Jack, poised at the bow, shot over the side as the Sea-Lark sped past.
Down he went into the green depths. A few yards away a blurred shape showed dimly and he swam gropingly toward it. Then his hands found what they sought and in a moment his head was above water again. Kicking out with all his strength, and sweeping his right hand through the green water, he clung on to the half-drowned canoeist with his left, until the sloop, with fluttering sail, loomed beside him.
A minute later the two dripping figures were on the deck.