“All right,” said the other mechanically. “I lost the fish, I guess.”
“I guess you did.” Clem chuckled. “Can you give a yell?”
Tom emitted a feeble cry, that betrayed his weakness more than words could have done. A wave broke over them, and Clem took his weight off the preserver, allowing it to float higher. It could not well sustain them both.
Also, there was a choppy sea running—the island current cutting up the long, easy ground swell. It was hard swimming, and the water was cold.
“What on earth’s the matter with Ed?” exclaimed Clem anxiously. “We ought to hear the horn——Ah! There it is! Thank goodness!”
Muffled, but unmistakable, the blast of the Sadie’s foghorn pierced its way to them. Clem shouted again and again. Ed was on the job!
“It don’t seem to be gettin’ much closer,” muttered Tom.
Clem listened. No—it was not growing closer. It was hard to tell from which direction the sound came, but certainly the launch was receding from them. Resting once more on the life preserver, Clem bellowed for all he was worth.
“Better quit yellin’,” mumbled Tom. “It’ll tire you out quicker’n any——”
The rest was lost in a splutter as a wave lapped over them. Clem again released the life buoy, which lifted Tom well above the water.