“Man overboard!” shouted Grant, running forward as he called. He did not know whether to laugh or to be worried. One thing was certain though and that was that George like his three companions was perfectly at home in the water. All four were expert swimmers so that barring accidents they had little to fear from falling overboard.
“He’s all right,” cried John. “Help me hold this anchor, somebody.”
Grant grasped the chain and one more heave was sufficient to bring the anchor up on the deck of the Balsam. Before this could be done, however, George came to the surface choking and spluttering.
“I’ll fix you for that, String,” he gasped, shaking his fist at John.
“For what?” demanded John.
“You know all right.”
“Why, Pop,” said John reprovingly.
“Keep her up into the wind, Fred,” shouted Grant who was seated at the tiller. “Let your sheet run. Here, Pop, give me your hand.”
“I’d better go down to the stern and get aboard there,” said George. “I think it will be a little easier.”
“All right; go ahead.”