Clif was thrown a dozen feet away from the boat, and when he regained the surface after the violent plunge he found himself buffeted about in a smother of foam.
He struck out blindly, and at the same time called lustily for his companions. An answering cry came at once.
“Clif! Clif! where are you?”
Guided by the voice, he reached the boat once more, but only after a most desperate struggle.
He felt himself clutched by the collar and dragged against the gunwale. Then he saw to his infinite surprise that the sailing launch had righted.
“All present and accounted for, and better off than before.”
These cheery words came from Clif as he scrambled into the boat and saw that both Joy and Trolley were there.
“Yes, but if we want to continue to be present we’d better commence to bail,” replied the former.
Trolley felt about under the submerged seats and brought up a bailer which had been wedged in one corner. With this he set industriously to work.
Clif and Joy did what they could to help, and before long the water in the launch was materially decreased. The boys labored with lighter hearts. Hope was not so far distant after all.