In that moment the boat keeled over, and when Judy came to the top of the water, she knew that between her and death in the green depths beneath, there was nothing but the strength of her frail limbs.
"Tommy," she called, as soon as she could get the salt water out of her mouth.
"Here," came shiveringly over the face of the waters.
"Are you all right?"
"No, no, it's horrid. Oh, I wish I was home—I wish I was home"—wailed Tommy, clinging to the belt for dear life.
The clouds had parted and one little star showed in the blackness, in the dim light Judy could just see Tommy's eyes glowing from out of his pallid face.
"He is afraid," she thought to herself, curiously. She was not afraid.
She had never been afraid of the water—poor Tommy.
She felt strangely weak, however, and all at once there came to her the knowledge that she could not keep up any longer. The strength of the old days was not hers—and she was tired—so tired—
She caught hold of the life-belt, and as she did so Tommy screamed,
"Don't, Judy. It won't hold us both. Don't—"
"He is afraid," she thought again, pityingly, "and I am not, and we can't both hold on to that belt—"