“What do you say to a header?”
Dick was stripped in half a minute. Anything for a change. And what change more delightful than a plunge in the lovely green sea?
The seniors smiled at his hurry, as they proceeded in a more leisurely fashion to follow his example.
“Don’t wait for us; over you go,” said Cresswell, “and tell old Neptune we are coming.”
Dick waited for no further invitation, and sprang from the gunwale. They watched the spreading circles that tracked his dive, and marked the white shining streak as it darted past, under the water.
“He’ll be a shark, before long,” said Cresswell. “Look at the distance he’s dived.”
“He has to thank the tide for part of this, though,” said Freckleton, looking at his watch. “Why, it’s—”
An exclamation from Cresswell stopped him. Dick had reappeared, but he was twenty yards at least astern of the boat, and drifting back every moment.
At first he did not seem to be aware of it; but, treading water, waved one hand exultantly to celebrate his long dive.
But when he began to swim, leisurely at first, but harder presently, he suddenly realised his position, and saw that instead of making way back to the boat, he was losing distance at every stroke.