George Brayton had felt a great pain at his heart the moment before, but Bar’s words seemed to take it right away.
“Can you keep her up?” he anxiously inquired.
“Yes, George,” said Sibyl herself, “and he’s brought me an oar. You take care of Effie.”
That was quite enough for one man to do, though Effie met the emergency very courageously; but she could not swim a stroke, and the water was becoming a trifle rough.
Val Manning had, at first, come very near being entangled with the boat, and even now he could hardly understand how it was that his friends had come to the surface and “paired off” so very nicely.
It may be because they had been sitting together and so have gone overboard in company.
At all events, he saw that the most important duty of all had fallen on his own shoulders, and he set about it like a hero.
“Cut the halyards,” shouted Bar, “and let the sail come down. You’ll never right her without that.”
Val obeyed, for the heavy, water-soaked sail had toppled clean over upon him the first time he tipped up the boat, knocking him under the water.
Relieved of this impediment, it was not so very difficult to get the boat once more on an “even keel,” or to swim around and pick up the floating oars, but whatever of her cargo which could not float or swim was already at the bottom of the Skanigo.