“Strike away, Archy. Bravo! We are getting on famously.”
Archy in the meantime was doing his best, though his legs and arms began to ache; still he resolved, as long as his strength would hold out, to persevere. At length he felt that he could do no more.
“Go on, Tom,” said he faintly. “Make the best of your way on shore and get help for the poor fellows, I will follow as fast as I can.”
“No! no!” answered Tom, “I am not going to desert you, come rest your head on my chest. It will help you wonderfully, just consider me a piece of cork, you know I float like one, only keep your legs kicking and your arms moving smartly.”
Tom did not tell Archy why he gave this advice, but he knew very well that if they were to remain quiet for an instant the cowardly sharks would make a dart at them, and that only by splashing vigorously could they keep off the monsters. He himself did so with his legs and one hand, while he placed the other under his friend’s back. Archy felt his strength much restored after this rest, and declared himself ready to go on again. On they went once more. Though they were certain that they had made good way, still the shore appeared fearfully far off, as they gazed at it with eyes growing somewhat dim from fatigue.
Archy exerted himself more than he would before have considered possible, but once more a faintness came over him.
“Oh! Tom, I am sinking, don’t wait for me, you will soon reach the shore now,” he cried out.
Tom, however, approaching with a couple of strokes, seized him, and once more placed his head on his chest, striking furiously with his own feet; for the instant before he had seen another shark, and the monster seemed eyeing him as if about to make a grab at his arms and legs.
“Keep your feet kicking out, as I told you before,” he exclaimed. “You will not sink, and it will keep them from getting the cramp. Kick, Archy! Kick!”
Archy could with difficulty do so, still he felt a great relief to his arms, and suddenly his strength again seemed to return.