“Is it holding?” called Bob.
“No,” answered Nelson. “I didn’t think it would. Get ready to take to the water if you have to, fellows. We can make the beach all right. I can see it, now and then, dead ahead there. Maybe, though, we can manage to stick on here.”
For a minute longer the sloop drifted on, tossed about on the leaping waves, then there was a jar, her bow swung around, and she listed to starboard. The waves flattened themselves against her upturned side, and drenched the occupants.
“She’s aground at the stern,” said Nelson quietly. “I guess we’ll have to get out of this. And we might as well do it now as later. We can’t get much wetter. Here, you, get up out of that and swim!”
“I can’t!” whined Will. He was huddled in a corner of the cockpit, white and trembling.
“Can’t swim!” echoed Dan incredulously. “Well, if that isn’t the limit!”
“Kick that coil of rope over here,” said Nelson, ducking from a wave that came washing over them. Dan obeyed. Nelson passed the end around Will, under his arms, and knotted it. “When I tell you to jump, you jump; understand?”
There was no answer, and Nelson waited for none.
“I’ll race you ashore, Dan,” he cried.
“All right! Coming, Bob? Coming, Tom?”