PROVING THEIR TRAINING
In the same instant, without a word to each other, Dave Darrin and
Dalzell had done the same thing. That is, they started to run and at the
same time doffed coats and vests, leaving these garments to flutter
behind them.
As they reached the sailboat both midshipmen cast off their shoes. Dave
leaped into the boat while Dalzell threw off the bowline, then boarded.
Like a flash both youngsters went at the lashings of the mainsail.
"There isn't a reef in," Dan discovered. "Going to take time for a close
reef, Dave?"
"There isn't time," Darrin muttered, with drops of cold perspiration on
his forehead as he toiled. "We'll have to go out under a full sail, Dan."
"Great Scott!" muttered Dalzell.
"We may be too late to save any one as it is. There! Jump to the halyard.
I've got the sheet."
Dan Dalzell began to hoist with a will. In an incredibly short time he
had the sail hoisted all the way up, while Darrin, stern and whitefaced,
crouched and braced himself by the tiller, gripping the sheet with his
left hand.
In a twinkling Darrin had the wind in his canvas. They had nearly a fair
wind as they bounded away from the float.
During these few instants of preparation neither Belle nor Laura had
spoken. Both girls realized the gravity of the situation, and they knew
that a word from them might distract the rescuers from the work in hand.
Knowing that he had the high, fast wind with him, Dave steered straight
for the last spot where he had seen the motor launch. Though the boat was
no longer visible, and the distance too great for seeing the heads of the
swimmers, if there were any, Darrin had taken his bearings by trees on
the further shore upstream.
At first, to keep the sailboat from capsizing, the young skipper at
the helm let the sheet well out. Then, when Dan hurriedly rejoined
him, Darrin passed the sheet over to his comrade as to one who would
know exactly what to do with it. Dan perched himself on the weather
gunwale, his weight there serving as ballast to keep the craft from
capsizing. Yet, even so, everything had to be done with the utmost
skill, for, with the mainsail up, the least fluke in handling the boat
would send her over.
"We've got to go fast and take all the chances," muttered Dave.
"Sure," nodded Midshipman Dan understandingly. "It would be no great
scare to us if we did heel over into the drink. It might mean a different
story, though, for those who are already sopping up the wet."
"Aren't they splendid fellows?" cried Laura.
"Yes," answered Belle, her eyes snapping and her face glowing. "Though I
won't claim that they're any finer than your own West Point boys."
That brought an added flush to the color in Laura Bentley's face, and her
eyes sparkled her gratitude, for Dick Prescott, now at West Point with
his chum, Greg Holmes, had been her High School sweetheart, and doubtless
was to become her Army sweetheart after he had made sure of his career.
"Dave and Dan are experts," glowed Miss Bentley. "They'll know just
what to do."
"They're better than mere experts," returned Belle Meade. "They're strong
and manly to the core, and with them there's no such word as fear when
there's a duty to be done."
Both Dave and Dan were peering fixedly ahead all the time that they drove
the sailboat toward the scene of the late disaster.
"I think I see a head," cried Darrin.
"Boy or girl!" demanded Midshipman Dalzell.
"Can't tell at this distance. And now the next wave has blotted out what
I thought I saw."
"We've got to be patient," uttered Dan.
The position of the midshipmen was far from being free of danger. With
all their coolness and their undoubted skill in boat handling, there was
grave danger, with the mainsail set, that, at any instant, wind and wave
would capsize the boat.
Indeed, Dave was running the lee gunwale under water half the
time, trusting to the human ballast supplied by his comrade to
keep them afloat.
"See anything now?" demanded Dave.
"No," uttered Dan, "though I'm working my eyes three shifts to try to
make out something. I'll have to go to an oculist as soon as I get
through with this. This eyestrain is awful."
Midshipman Dan Dalzell was really unconscious of the fact that
he was joking. It was second nature with him; he would have
jested--unconsciously--with death in its most awful form.
"There, I see a head--two of them!" cried Midshipman Dave suddenly, as he
half rose and pointed.
"Hurrah!"--from Dan.
Dan let the boat's head fall off a point in order that he might see
better around the mast on the weather side, just where he must head his
craft in the last dash in.
"It's Foss and Ella Wright," called Dan, as the flying sailboat got in
closer over the foam-crested waves. "No, it isn't; Foss has Susie."
"Can you make out Canty and Ella?" demanded Darrin hoarsely.
"Not a sign, Dave. Maybe he's gone under trying to save Ella."
"Canty was one of our Gridley High School boys, so I'd expect him to have
both the nerve and the grace to go down with a girl, if he couldn't save
her as well as himself," muttered Darrin.
"There's Canty, just come up!"
"Can you make out Ella's head?"
"No."
"Look hard."
"I don't see her, and--there!"
"What's up?"
"Nothing," returned Dalzell soberly. "Canty's down--just gone down
again."
"I hope he's gone down trying to find and rescue Ella," murmured Dave.
They were now so close that the young midshipmen would have been able to
hear the shouts of the imperiled ones had it not been that the wind blew
the sounds of voices away from the would-be rescuers.
"Better ease off the sheet a bit, I guess, Davy," called Dan, as he
suited the action to the word. "We don't went to run 'em down."
"No."
As he spoke, Dave Darrin brought the boat slightly around. They were now
close enough to see that Tom Foss was supporting dead weight in the
person of Susie, who was unconscious.
"Waiting the word from you on the sheet, Davy," nodded Dan, as the boat
drew close to the only pair of survivors now visible.
"Let go the sheet!" called Dave an instant later, and Dan let it run off
clear, handing the end of the rope to Darrin.
"Can you head Susie this way, Foss?" Dalzell called.
"I'd rather have help," came the faint answer. Tom Foss was evidently
well spent by his exertions in keeping up the girl so long.
Splash! Dan Dalzell was in the water, without waiting to hear more. The
athletic young midshipman swam with a steadiness and speed that was
glorious to see. Many an excellent swimmer, in smooth water, would dread
buffeting with such waves as were now rolling.
Dave Darrin, meanwhile, held on to the tiller and the paid-out sheet,
ready to manoeuvre the now pitching, rolling boat at an instant's notice.
It took all his seamanship to keep the craft afloat, though the sailboat
was far better modeled for such water than the motor launch had been.
"Give her over to me, and save yourself," commanded Dalzell cheerily, as
he reached Tom Foss. "Think you can make it, old fellow?"
"If I can't, I ought to drown," retorted Tom Foss, as he struck out, none
too strongly. "This is all my fault. You fellows gave me better advice
than I had sense to follow."
Dan, with a skill that he had acquired directly from the excellent
instruction given him by the swimming master at the Naval Academy, was
now piloting the unconscious form of Susie Danes toward the sailboat.
Even encumbered as he was, Dan made the boat before Tom Foss could
accomplish that feat alone. Truth to tell, Foss was very nearly "all in."
Had rescue been delayed a few moments longer, Foss and his fair companion
must have sunk.
"Get hold of her, Davy," called Dan, as he ranged up on the weather side
of the tossing boat.
Darrin promptly leaned over and lifted the unconscious girl into the
boat. By the time he had done that Tom Foss reached up both hands,
seizing the boat's stern.
"Going to help me in?" he called.
"I don't know," Dave answered dubiously.
"If we can find Ella Wright there may not be room. With such a sea
running, this boat won't hold many."
"No matter about me, then," muttered Tom. "If Ella isn't found right away
I don't believe I care about going back to Gridley."
Dave's response was swiftly to knot a noose and let it down over Tom's
shoulders. The other end of the line he made fast astern. Dalzell, in the
meantime, had swum back again. Susie Danes lay as still as death in the
bottom of the boat.
As Dalzell got back where he had first reached Foss and Susie, he espied
the head of Ab Canty some distance away.
"Ab!" called Dan.
"Here!"
"What has become of Ella?"
"Oh, I wish I knew!"
"Was she afloat at all!" demanded Dan, swimming nearer.
"Yes; I kept her up for a couple of minutes, maybe. Then she got more
scared, wound her arms tight around me, and we both sank. We had a
struggle under water. I freed myself, but when I came to the top I found
that my hand was clutching nothing but her empty jersey. There it is
now," chattered Ab, his teeth, knocking against each other, as he pointed
to the garment in question on the top of a distant wave. Then Ab sank.
For just an instant Dalzell thought Canty had gone below on purpose. Dan
swam closer, to be of assistance. Then he saw the bubbles of air coming
up rapidly.
"Cantys given out--he's going to drown!" gasped Midshipman Dan,
with horror.
Like a flash Dan dived below, found and clutched at Canty. The young man
returned the grip with interest, but Midshipman Dalzell struggled to the
surface with him. Ab Canty was exhausted, out of his head and altogether
past reasoning. Dan hated to do it, but he had to strike the young man in
the forehead. Canty gave a gasp and ceased to resist.
Dave Darrin, watching, had run the boat up close alongside as soon as the
struggling pair appeared above the waves.
"You'll have to take him in, Davy," announced Midshipman Dalzell. "Canty
isn't strong enough to tow behind. And I'm coming aboard for a fresh look
before I dive for Miss Wright."
"You're going to stay aboard and manage the boat," retorted Darrin
quietly. "I'm going in next."
"Oh, all right, if you want to," half grumbled Dan. "But I'm just
beginning to get used to it and to like it."
Dan, however, followed orders and took his seat by tiller and sheet as
soon as they had towed Canty safely in the boat. Tom Foss, lied and
holding on at the stern, was beginning to chatter hard, but said he was
all right.
A brief instant of consultation the two midshipmen held. Then Dave
Darrin, holding his hands before him, dived hard and deep into the water.
After nearly a minute he came up again, but only to take an observation.
Then he sank, to explore more of the space under water.
For five minutes Darrin continued this, making four dives in all, and
sinking twice without diving.
"I can't give this up, and abandon a girl," he muttered. "Dan, I've got
to take more account of the current, and work gradually downstream."
A little later Dave rose with a whoop the instant that his head showed
above the water.
"I've got her," Dave announced, though his voice was hoarse and panting.
"Hurrah!" came from Dan, as he saw the girl's head show above the
surface. Dalzell, hauling on the sheet, ran the boat in close. Dave
grasped at the rail on the weather quarter, while Dan bent over him,
hauling hard. And so Ella Wright was dragged unconscious into the boat.
"I'd stay here in the water with you, Tom," explained Dave, "but I've got
to be in the boat to do my share of handling her."
"Th-th-that's all r-r-r-r-right," chattered poor Foss, "I'm d-d-d-doing
f-f-f-fine here--c-c-c-couldn't h-help in the b-b-b-boat"
While lying to, it had taken some fine management on the part of the
midshipmen to keep the sailboat from capsizing. And now, on this rough,
wave-strewn river, they had to tack back against a nearly head wind.
"Look at the crowd on the clubhouse float," gasped Dan as soon as the
Naval chums had gotten their craft under way.
"Good thing," muttered Darrin. "We'll need plenty of help."
"I wonder how the crowd got wind of the thing in such short time?"
"You forget," nudged Darrin, "that there's a telephone in the clubhouse.
Laura and Belle are not given to losing their heads. Undoubtedly they've
been 'phoning to Gridley."
"Then they can't have overlooked the need of physicians," ventured Dan,
"especially as Laura is the daughter of one."
As the boat drew nearer to the float the noise of cheers was borne to the
ears of the midshipmen.
"More of the hero racket," uttered Dan disgustedly.
"I hope this won't get into the newspapers," grunted Darrin in a tone of
something like real alarm. "Say, the fellows of the brigade wouldn't do
a thing but make us mount chairs and read all the fulsome gush about
this rescue."
"And then, after we'd finished a straight reading," groaned Dan, "we'd
have to sing it next, to the tune of 'Columbia, the Pride of the Ocean.'"
"'Gem of the Ocean,' Dan," Darrin corrected.
Though in the middle of the river the sailboat had many a close shave
from capsizing in the strong puffs of wind, especially with the load that
the little craft carried, yet Dan Dalzell, at the tiller, brought the
boat at last in under the lee side of the float, and there a score of
pairs of willing hands reached out with offers of help.
Dr. Bentley was in the crowd, as were two other Gridley physicians. There
were also two trained nurses, and one of the druggists had brought along
a big emergency box of drugs and supplies. Between them the telephone and
the automobile can accomplish a lot in these modern times.
Laura and Belle, though they had summoned the aid, now kept tactfully in
the background.
The two apparently drowned girls were lifted from the boat in haste and
borne to a room that had been made ready on the second floor of the
clubhouse. Ab Canty was carried to another room, and Tom Foss, who nearly
shook to pieces when lifted from the water, was helped after his friend.
"You two young midshipmen will have to come inside and get some of our
attention," called Dr. Bentley in an authoritative voice.
"I think not, thank you, doctor," replied Dave Darrin. "The most that we
want is some place where we can strip and rub down, while waiting for dry
clothing."
"I know just the room, and I'll take you there," urged Len Spencer,
reporter for the "Morning Blade." Len was an old friend of Dick Prescott,
who, in his High School days before going to West Point, had worked as an
amateur space reporter for the "Blade."
Len led the way gladly. While Dan and Dave stripped and rubbed down, Len
got out of them the whole account of what they had been through.
Reporter Spencer had already talked with Belle and Laura. A man in an
auto had already started for the homes of the two midshipmen, to obtain
changes of clothing for them.
"Now, Len," begged Dave, "don't spread on a lot of taffy. Don't smother
us under the hero racket."
"But it was an heroic thing," Len argued. "And, besides, it was done with
great skill, of the kind that you've gained at the Naval Academy. It
makes a corking, elegant story about two of our brightest Gridley lads."
"But, Len, do you realize that the fellows at the Naval Academy will make
us read aloud to them this yarn you're proposing to write about us--that
is, if they happen to hear about it?"
"And then, after we've read the yarn straight, they'll make us sing it
all to some blamed old tune or another," groaned Dalzell.
"Well, I can't help it," sighed good-natured Len. "It's a story we've got
to have to-morrow morning. I'd lose my position if I didn't write a good
story about this afternoon's work. And, now that I've got a wife and baby
to feed, I can't afford to waste any good time in job-hunting."
"Then I hope none of the other fellows at the Naval Academy hear about
the 'Blade's' story," gulped Dan, as he wrapped himself in a blanket
while waiting for his dry clothes.
"Hear about it?" retorted Len. "They'll hear about it, all right. The
Associated Press man at Gridley will be sure to send something about it
to the papers all over the country."
"I guess we've got to take our medicine, Danny," hinted Midshipman
Dave Darrin.
In the meantime Tom Foss was soon comfortable, wrapped up in blankets and
with plenty of coffee inside him. Nor did it take long to bring Ab Canty
around. In three quarters of an hour Susie Danes opened her eyes.
As for Ella Wright, the physicians and nurses worked over her long and
earnestly, and were on the point of giving her up when at last a flutter
of her eyelids was seen.
By night time all of the young people were quite out of danger, but the
parents of the Wright and Danes families were highly indignant over the
recklessness of Tom Foss in taking the girls out on the river in such a
heavy wind.
Three days later even the launch was saved; that is, it was raised and
was towed to a boat-builder for overhauling and repairs.