As long as he lives Nelson will never recall that struggle through the angry waters without a sudden sinking of the heart. Wind and wave were dead against him, mocking his frantic efforts at haste, burying him for moments at a time in ugly swirls of white-frothed water, that blinded and confused him. In those moments which, brief as they must have been, seemed minutes long, the monotonous sound of rushing wind and splashing wave were silenced and only the stealthy swish of water flowing over his submerged head reached him. It was pleasant, that calm, after the confusion of the world above, and once he found himself giving way to a sort of stupor. What was the use of struggling? Under the water it was calm and peaceful; down here there was rest for tired limbs. Involuntarily his aching arms and legs ceased their labors, and even the swirling of water past his ears no longer came to him, and he knew that he was sinking. Then the benumbing stupor passed, fright gripped him with icy hands at his heart, he opened his mouth to cry aloud, and arose, fighting wildly, to the surface, his lungs half filled with water. For a moment a panic held him; he fancied unseen hands were clutching at him, striving to drag him down again to that awful stillness, and he thrashed and struggled and shrieked at the leaden sky. Then recollection of Dan came to him and the terror passed. Blinking his streaming eyes, he looked about him. Almost at hand was something half submerged that at first he thought might be his companion. But as he reached it, swimming hand over hand with the waves breaking above his head, he saw that it was only the canoe tent, which, partly on account of its wooden pole and partly because a certain amount of air was imprisoned beneath the canvas, was still afloat. Grasping it with one hand he turned to search the water. And as he turned fingers gripped themselves about his wrist in a feeble clutch and Dan’s face arose white and drawn beside him. The eyes were wide open and staring, and for a moment Nelson believed that they were the eyes of a dead person. But the clutching fingers told a different tale, and as he reached across the tent and seized Dan under one armpit the staring eyes seemed to flicker with recognition. Then the lids closed slowly, wearily over them.
He was not dead, thought Nelson with a sudden rush of blood to his chilled heart. And then, driving before it that brief sensation of relief, came to him a knowledge of the hopelessness of their situation. The canoe was drifting bottom upward hundreds of feet away. No hail came from Bob or Tom. He must keep afloat himself and sustain Dan as well, and for aid there was only the canvas tent lashed about its pole and already half water-logged. But the feeling of panic was a thing of the past. Even fear had gone from him. Discouragement was left, but with it was a determination to fight the battle to the very end and win if strength and wit could do it.
After a moment, during which he strove merely to keep his head above water and regain his breath, he set about getting Dan over the tent. The latter would not hold the weight of both of them, but it might keep Dan up for a while. It was hard work, with the waves battling against his every effort, but at last he succeeded in getting Dan’s shoulders over the bundle of canvas. Then, with a firm grasp on the other’s forearm, he let himself float. To swim was out of the question, since it would only exhaust what little strength remained to him. The wind and waves were already bearing them along to some extent toward land. Sooner or later Bob must discover the disaster and turn back, and all that could be done was to keep afloat until he came. The minutes passed. Dan’s eyes remained closed, but the lids flickered now and then. Once Nelson strove to wake him by calling his name, but there was no response; and as it exhausted his breath Nelson gave it up. One thing he was thankful for during those lagging minutes, and that was his and Dan’s attire. The light jerseys and trunks were scarcely more than bathing suits, and even the rubber-soled canvas shoes added little to their difficulties. With something almost approaching a smile he wondered what Mr. Carey would have done in his place, wearing the clothes which they had envied him an hour or so before.
Presently he began to feel drowsy and longed to close his eyes for a moment, but was afraid to do so. The canvas tent lost more and more of its buoyancy as the imprisoned air escaped, and Nelson dreaded the moment when it would no longer give him aid. It seemed at least an hour since the overturning of the canoe and yet could have been scarcely more than ten minutes. Time and again he strove to lift himself high enough from the water to see over the white crests, but always his view encompassed only seething lake and dull, stormy sky. His arms and legs ached. The water, warm when the involuntary bath had begun, now felt like ice against his body, and his teeth chattered together whenever he opened his mouth. Dan’s face looked blue, and the fear that he would die before rescue arrived began to creep into Nelson’s heart. Suddenly there came a strain on his arm and he looked and saw the end of the canvas bundle disappearing under the water. Seizing Dan by the shoulder of his jersey, Nelson pulled the other toward him so that his head and upper part of the body lay across his chest. So, with the waves washing over them, they floated awhile, Nelson swimming slowly with legs and one arm. But it couldn’t keep up long, that sort of thing, and he knew it. And with the knowledge came a certain sensation of relief. He had struggled almost as long as human power was capable of; surely he had done his duty, and now——
His half-closed eyes suddenly opened. Surely he had heard——
“[Coming! Don’t give up, boys!]”
The cry now reached him plainly, borne on the rushing wind, and told of succor near at hand. He had lost all sense of direction, nor did he try to recognize the voice. His first sensation was one of mild annoyance. It seemed so silly to bother about rescuing him now. He was sure that Dan was drowned and sure that he had but a moment or two longer to struggle himself. They would try to haul him into the canoe, and things would be very fussy and troublesome; he would much rather be left alone. However, since they insisted he would do what they asked. And so he urged his weary limbs to further effort and was still afloat with one hand gripping Dan’s arm when a boat shot alongside.
The next thing he knew he was still rocking in the waves, as it seemed, and the dark clouds were still racing across the heavens above him. But the water had grown delightfully warm, and he felt deliciously comfortable. Some one, it must have been Dan, of course, said: