“Man overboard!”
“Where?” they shouted. “Where?”
“Man overboard off the starboard stern!”
There was a mad scuffling of feet on the steel decks as the crewmen rushed for the rail, some to reach for a line and a life preserver, others merely to stare.
Hardly had Cookie’s body entered the water with a resounding splash, than there was a clanging of bells in the engine room beneath Sandy and Jerry. The ship’s motors roared in a rising crescendo of power. The James Kennedy shivered and shuddered like a live thing, and out from beneath its stern there issued a wild, white boiling of angry water.
“Full speed astern!” someone cried.
Then, with another great quiver, the James Kennedy seemed to come to a halt.
All of this happened quickly, perhaps within only a few seconds. But rapid as had been the reactions of these trained seamen, they were still far behind the swift decisiveness of Sandy Steele.
The moment he had seen Cookie lose his balance, Sandy had braced his steel-muscled legs, ready to go to his aid. When their little friend’s body had vanished, Sandy had raced over to the railing. Jerry was not far behind.
Sandy did not hesitate. He recalled, with dread, what Cookie had been telling them only moments before about the killing cold of the lake water. As he ran, he stripped off his own shirt and threw it to the winds. As he reached the railing, he knelt, swiftly untied his shoes, and pulled them off.