Oh, how good the fresh air tasted. He filled his lungs and took breath after breath—and then——
Dave opened his eyes and stared vacantly around him. He was on the deck of the Swallow and Doctor Barrell was bending over him, a look of deep anxiety on the kindly face.
"Dave, how do you feel now!" came in anxious tones. "Can you breathe?"
He could not answer excepting to take a long breath; but he now understood the situation. He had been hauled up to the Swallow's deck and was saved! Then of a sudden he became unconscious again.
Quarter of an hour later Dave found himself sitting up and swallowing some medicine Doctor Barrell was forcing into his mouth. He still felt very weak, and when he tried to stand, all swam before his eyes.
"You must keep quiet, lad," said the doctor. "You have had a narrow escape from death."
"My father——" began Dave. He could say no more.
"He was brought up with you, of course."
"And is he—is he——"
"He is slowly recovering, but of course he is older than you and not so strong, and it will, consequently, take longer."