"Then, if floating still, we must find it. Our only chance lies there."
Fortunately John is, in a measure, self-possessed. He at least shows himself equal to the emergency.
They pull in the direction where it is most likely they will find what they seek.
John twists his neck as he rows, and endeavors to scan the sea around them. Again and again he calls out, hoping in the fullness of his heart that some answering cry may come back.
What leaden seconds those are—never can they forget them.
"I see something!" says Aunt Gwen, who is crouching in the bow, regardless of the spray that now and then spatters her.
"Where away?" demands John, eagerly.
"Straight ahead."
They pull with fierce energy.
"Can you make it out?"