“If he hadn’t been so busy shooting when the fire started,” Jerry said, “he would have stood a good chance of putting it out. The delay is going to sink him!”
Jones worked feverishly until the last possible moment, until the decks and the cabin were aflame, and the fire had spread to the little cockpit. Finally, when it was obvious that there was no more he could do, he kicked off his shoes and jumped over the side.
“What do we do now?” Sandy asked. “We can’t just leave them there to drown. They probably deserve it, but I don’t think it’s up to us to judge what kind of sentence they get.”
“You’re right,” Jerry agreed. “But if we take them aboard, we won’t stand much of a chance against them. Why don’t we try to find them and toss them a couple of life jackets so they can stay afloat while we make up our minds?”
It was no trouble to find Turk, who came swimming up to the side to beg to be taken aboard. Sandy kept the empty flare pistol aimed at him while Jerry looked for the life jackets. When he had found them, he tossed one over the side, and Turk struggled into it. Then, still frightened of the flare gun which he did not know was empty, he held up his hands tamely to allow Jerry to tie them together.
“Now will ya lemme come on board?” he pleaded.
“I don’t think so,” Sandy answered. “I think you’ll be safer at the end of a long line. Just relax, and we’ll tow you back to shore!”
With Turk in tow, the sloop handled rather sluggishly as the boys circled the scene of the fire searching for Jones. The bright light of the flames had died to a glowing, dull orange which was soon to go out altogether as the sloop settled lower and lower in the water.
“What we need is a searchlight,” Jerry said. “We may never find him unless he swims to us the way Turk did!”
“Listen!” Sandy said. “If I’m not mistaken, I hear a searchlight coming now!”