He raised his arms and plunged far out into the tossing water.
[CHAPTER XIX]
THE RESCUE
There was a moment of suspense for those on the deck of the house-boat. Then a brown head arose from the water fully twenty feet away, and a powerful arm followed it, and with long, swift strokes the artist headed toward the overturned boat on his mission of rescue. His task was not a difficult one for a good swimmer, as he at once proved himself, as long as he was going with the wind behind him and the current partly in his favor. The water was terribly rough, but as he swam low anyhow, with his face under the surface more than half the time, that didn’t matter very much. The difficult work would begin when, with the rescued man in tow, he faced wind and current to regain the island.
The boys watched eagerly and silently. Dick had shut Jack inside the cabin and his dismal howls arose above the roar of the wind. Roy, with the coil of rope in his hand, fought his way to the bow, for the capsized boat had already drifted past them and it was a question whether the rope would prove long enough. The rain had almost ceased, but the wind still blew violently, although here, in the lee of the island, it was less intense than it was out in the channel.
“Wonder how long the rope is,” said Chub anxiously as he looked at the lessening coil on the deck. Roy shook his head.
“Too short, I’m afraid,” he answered. “Can you see him now?” Chub answered no, but Dick pointed him out, a darker speck on the dark, tossing water, almost up to the boat. Boat and swimmer, borne by the current, which was always strong in the narrow inner channel, had passed the center of the island and in another moment or two would be abreast of the camp.
“Let’s get off of here,” cried Dick, “and go on down the beach. That rope will never reach from here.”
It was true, for already the last coil passed into Roy’s hands.