They were all straining their eyes when at last the thing appeared once more on the crest of the wave.
"Wreckage! A mass of it!" came from the skipper.
"And—and there's a hand!" exclaimed Curlie.
"The paddles, boys! The paddles! Every 'and of you, hup an' at it," shouted the skipper.
The wildest excitement prevailed, yet out of it all there came quick and concerted action. Three paddles flashed as, straining every muscle, they strove to bring the clumsy raft nearer the wreck. With tears in her eyes, the girl begged and implored them to unwrap her and allow her to have a hand in the struggle.
A minute passed. No longer chilled but steaming from violent exertion, they strained eager eyes to catch another glimpse of the wreck.
"There—there it is!" exclaimed the girl, overcome with joy. "You're gaining! You're gaining!"
Five minutes passed. They gained half the distance. Eight minutes more; the hand on the wreckage rose again. They were getting nearer.
Suddenly the girl uttered a piercing cry of joy:
"It is Vincent! It is! It is!"