“It say good-by to us,” chimed in Trolley. “It go away; we no want to.”
He spoke lightly, but he fully understood the extreme gravity of the situation. All three realized that their lives were in deadly peril.
With only the frail planks of an overturned boat between them and the depths of the angry sea, it was plainly evident that little hope remained.
And what of the others who had left the practice ship?
Clif shuddered and his eyes moistened as he recalled the names of his shipmates. Some there were who had not been friendly to him. Many had sworn undying vengeance because he had led the plebes on more than one successful resistance to the hazing of the upper classes. In that very launch Judson Greene had pulled an oar.
All animosity was forgotten now, however; in the presence of such an awful tragedy only heartfelt sympathy and regret could live.
“Haven’t you seen anything of the others?” he asked again.
“Nary sign,” replied Joy, gloomily.
“I guess they gone down,” muttered Trolley. “Poor boys! Me very sorry.”
A realization of their own situation was suddenly brought home to them. A curling wave, higher than the rest, abruptly broke over the launch with such force that all three lads were hurled bodily from the keel.