Before she could realize what he was doing, he had seized the girl and had wrapped her round and round with the blankets, then with the oiled cloth. Joe had rushed out to help with the raft. Curlie carried the girl outside and, when the raft with the others aboard was afloat, handed her down to the skipper.
"Try and keep her dry," he said calmly. "We'll all get soaked, but we can stand it for a long time; a girl can't."
"Now push off!" he commanded. "Get good and clear so that the wreck will not draw you down."
"You'll come with us," said the skipper sternly. Curlie had not intended going with them. He had meant to remain behind and send a call for aid, then to swim for the raft. But now, as he saw the water gaining on the stricken craft, he realized how dangerous and futile it would be. He was needed on the raft to help get her away. Having seen all this at a flash he said:
"All right; I'll go." Having dropped to the raft, and seized a short paddle, he joined Joe and the engineer in forcing the unwieldy raft away from the side of the doomed Kittlewake.
They were none too soon, for scarcely two minutes could have elapsed when with a rush that nearly engulfed them the boat keeled up on end and sank from sight.
"And now," said Joe addressing Curlie as he settled back to a seat on one of the gas-filled tubes, "you can test out what you said once about keeping your radiophone dry and tuned up under any and every circumstance. Suppose you tune her up now and get off an S.O.S."
There was a smile on the lips of the undaunted young operator as he said with a drawl:
"Give me time, Joe, old scout, give me time."
The girl, staring out from her wrappings, appeared to fear that the two boys had gone delirious over this new catastrophe.