“Something must be done!” exclaimed Tom, who had been thinking over the matter, and in his own mind had resolved what to do.
“It’s too far for any of us to swim to shore,” observed Mr Jennings; “I would try it, but I never could keep afloat five minutes together.”
“I, too, am a miserable swimmer,” sighed Mr Houghton. “Besides which, the sharks would take good care not to allow one of us to reach the shore,” he added, in a whisper.
Neither of the seamen could swim, and McTavish, the only other grown man of the party, had had very little practice either.
“Well, then,” exclaimed Tom, “I will try it! My brother Jack swam on shore when the Racer was wrecked in the Mediterranean, and was the means of saving the lives of many of the people; I am not a much worse swimmer than he was then; I feel sure that I could do it if I had a companion. It’s a long way to go alone through the silent water.”
“Faith! I would go with you,” cried Desmond, “but I am afraid that I should keep you back rather than help you forward.”
Archy Gordon, who had sat silent during the discussion, suddenly exclaimed, “I am not so good a swimmer as you are, Tom, but I see no other way of saving our lives, and if I go down I shall at all events be doing my duty.”
“Thank you, Archy,” said Tom; “I accept your offer, and will do my best to help you along.”
Had any other means offered, the rest of the party would not have allowed the young midshipmen to run so fearful a hazard of their lives. Mr Houghton, especially, knew well the danger they would encounter from the sharks, but he said nothing to damp their courage.
Archy at once began to get ready. Taking off his shoes and jacket, he gave them to McTavish, and begged him to preserve them for him.