“And I’m responsible for Tom’s condition,” was the thought that drove into Clem’s heart with paralyzing truth. He called up his reserve strength and breasted the waves, but the effort wasted him alarmingly. His limbs were stiff, numbed. He prayed for the Sadie, but she came not.
“Tom,” said Clem, as he turned, swimming beside the buoy and watching Tom’s white, stern-clenched face, “we’ve hazed you pretty hard this trip, but it was for your own good. Ed and I came to Pedro, and found——” A wave plunged over him. Clem fought it down, gasping.
“We found your dad ten years older than he was a month or two ago. Ma didn’t say much, but she was pretty hard hit—and it was your fault, Tom. You’ve been running with the wrong crowd, and because you’re a good deal above them in every way they’ve toadied to you and got you on the down grade to their level. Ed and I——”
Again a great quantity of green water curled over him. The crest swallowed him. Desperate, Clem lost his head, and flurried wildly, frantically, wasting precious strength. When he emerged, half strangled, his own danger frightened him into coolness.
“Grab hold o’ the buoy, you fool!” growled Tom weakly.
“Shut up!” gasped Clem. “Listen! I want you to understand why we acted as we did, Tom. Your drinking and loafing and general cussedness has darned near wrecked your——”
Once more a smother of water dragged him down. He fought against the wild impulse to grab the buoy, but he struggled up to find Tom’s hand on his arm.
“Git aboard here——”
“Quit!” snarled Clem, flinging back and breaking the other’s hold. He gazed at Tom with desperate, convulsed features. He knew he could not last long. His strength was going fast. “We can’t, both hang on there, you idiot! It—it won’t hold—more’n one—and——”
“Then I’ll drop!” And Tom tried to heave himself up and release the lashing about his arms. He failed, through very stiffness and weakness.