Suddenly the lad came in contact with some yielding body. He heard a gasp and a gurgle, then two arms were thrown about his neck and down went his head beneath the surface.
It is not in the duty of man to drown without making an effort for life. Neither should one go down at the frantic assault of another until all means of aiding both have been exhausted.
Clif instantly realized that he was in the clutches of one whom peril had rendered frantic. He also knew that he must release himself right speedily if he expected to save himself.
Calling all his power into play, he threw off the strangling arms, at the same time gasping hoarsely:
“Strike out, man. Do something for yourself.”
He received no answer. The fellow faded away in the blackness, leaving Clif to swim unencumbered. Luckily, the lad was at home in the water, else he would have found sore trouble in keeping above the buffeting waves.
He struggled on, striving his best to see aught of hope in the prospect. The wind swept the crests of the seas into a thousand stinging lances. The roar of the increasing storm sounded like a mocking chorus of demons. Occasional cries for help echoed above the brawling of the elements.
Suddenly the lights on the practice ship, which Clif had kept before his eyes as well as he could, began to grow dim.
“Surely they will not leave us to perish miserably,” groaned the lad. “They will stand by until some of the boats report.”