IN THE LINE OF DUTY
As his head shot above the water a Dave barely paused to expel the
water from his mouth.
"Boat's crew close together, to stand by the poor swimmers!" he
yelled hoarsely.
The water being barely ruffled, Darrin was able to count eight heads
besides his own.
That meant that five men had still failed to come up.
Midshipman Driscoll, an instant later, shot up beside Dave.
"Help!" sputtered Driscoll.
"Float on my arm, sir," ordered Dave, swimming with lusty strokes
until he had thrust his left arm under Driscoll's chest.
Then the young crew captain shouted:
"Who can get here first to support Mr. Driscoll."
"Here!" called another midshipman, overtaking the pair with lusty
strokes.
"Keep Mr. Driscoll up," called Dave, as he swam away. "I've got
to count heads fast."
Another midshipman came above water, and Dan Dalzell was at him,
like a flash, supporting the new arrival, who was one of the poor
swimmers.
That left three men to be accounted for.
Further down the stream still another head appeared. Only for
a moment or two, this midshipman succeeded in keeping his head
above water.
"I'll get that man," cried Farley, as he and another midshipman
started with powerful strokes after the man who was going down
for the second time.
"There's a seat floating!" shouted Dalzell.
Darrin plunged forward for it, until he saw one of his crew nearing
it ahead of him.
"Hold that as a life-buoy!" called Dave.
Hardly had he given this order when another midshipman made himself
heard, as he trod water.
The board was pushed toward him, while Dave made a rapid count.
"All up but Mr. Page;" muttered Dave, but even that thought made
him sick at heart.
Only a few moments had passed, but that was time enough for any
man to come to the surface if his buoyancy remained.
Darrin had paid no heed to Mr. Salisbury or the latter's engineer,
for he had seen them jumping for their life-preservers.
In the meantime the other boats of the sailing fleet were making
for the scene of the disaster. Yet, with the light breeze, that
was no easy thing to do. It would take some time yet to bring
the nearest of the sailing fleet to the scene.
Signals had been sprung to the steam-launch fleet, but the launches
were far down the bay, and many minutes must pass before relief
could be looked for from that quarter. Two or three of the
sailboats would, in fact, be at hand first.
Though there were some excellent swimmer among the wrecked
midshipmen, the best of these were already standing by midshipmen
who did not swim well. Dave Darrin was the only one free to go to
Page's assistance should he show up.
"Every man keep his eyes peeled for Mr. Page!" shouted Dave. "We
simply can't stand the loss of any member of the crew!"
"There's a hat!" cried Dan, a few moments later. "Can you make
it out, sir."
Dalzell was pointing further down the bay.
"A cap, yes," called Dave, striking out lustily for the spot.
"But I don't see any head there. Watch, all of you, and give
me a hail if you see Mr. Page's head show up anywhere."
Midshipman Farley was in agony over the thought of the loss of
his roommate. Yet Farley was at this time engaged in standing
by a less-skilled swimmer.
"That looks like a face, fifteen yards west from the cap!" shouted
one of the crew.
Dave Darrin made the greatest spring, he could up out of the water.
It gave him a chance for a better view.
"I see the face!" he roared back. "Look after yourselves. I'll
get in close to Mr. Page."
Dave swam as he had never done before, taking swift yet long,
powerful strokes. He reached the spot, only to see what he had
taken for a face sink slowly below the surface.
"That must be the second time going down!" throbbed Darrin, with
a feeling of horror.
More powerfully than ever he surged forward. He was too late to
catch another glimpse of the white face. But he had noted the
point at which it had sunk.
Taking a breath, Darrin took a dive downward, duck fashion. Holding
his breath, he went below, his eyes wide open, seeking as best
he could.
Down where the light of day reached him poorly Darrin caught sight
of something floating slowly past. It might have been a fish,
for all the sense of shape that reached Dave.
With an inward prayer the young crew captain surged downward and
forward. He grappled with--something--then fought his way the
surface, holding that something tightly.
As they shot above the water Darrin's blood danced for joy.
It was Page--"good old Page!"--whom he had brought to the top.
"Got him safe?" bellowed Farley, over the water.
Dave was too winded to answer. He thrust one hand above his head,
waving it joyfully. Then he let the hand fall that he might better
attend to his work.
For a few moments they floated there. The nearest of the sailing
cutters was now nearing the victims of the wreck.
The boat, however, would reach Darrin last of all.
While Darrin watched Farley and three others clambering aboard
the rescuing boat, the young crew captain trod water, supporting
Page at the same time.
Then Page opened his eyes, as though returning from a faint, rather
than reviving from a partial drowning.
"Hold me tight!" gasped Page, almost in a whisper. "I'm a fearfully
poor swimmer."
"I know," nodded Dave, "but I've got you, and I never let go of a
good thing."
Darrin's heart throbbed gratefully. All of the boat crew were
accounted for; not a man of his command lost.
Further off he could see Mr. Salisbury and the engineer of the
foundered power boat, each held up by a life-preserve.
But, though all of the wrecked middies were afloat, they were
as yet by no means safe. Some were so helpless that every man
who could keep himself afloat and help another was thus engaged.
Dave, after his strong exertions, found himself rapidly "playing
out." If help did not soon reach him he felt that he would be
exhausted.
"Can't you help yourself a little more, Mr. Page?" he asked.
Unnoticed by Darrin, Midshipman Page had been slowly relapsing
into unconsciousness. In the collision Page had been hit glancingly
on the head by the gaff of the falling mainsail.
Page heard Dave's query with a muddled mind. All he grasped was
that Darrin was doubtful of his ability to keep them both up.
In an agony of unreasoning, stupefied dread, Midshipman Page swiftly
wound both arms around Dave Darrin.
"Here!" commanded the young captain the crew. "Don't do that!"
But Page either did not hear or did not heed. His arms clung
more desperately around Dave, binding one of the latter's arms
to his body.
"He'll drown both of us!" was the thought that flashed instantly
through Midshipman Darrin's mind.
There was no time to think of more. Before he realized that the
thing was happening Darrin felt the waters close over his head.
Both midshipmen were going down. While Darrin's mind was fully
alive to the situation Page, a gallant fellow at heart, and thoroughly
brave, was now unwittingly carrying his comrade down with him to
death.
Nor, in the first moments, did any of the other midshipmen note
the tragic happening.
It was not long, however, before Dan Dalzell's agonized query
shot over the waters:
"Where's grand old Darrin?"
Dan groaned with his helplessness. For Dan was, at that instant,
holding up one of the poor swimmers, to leave whom would be to
abandon him to death.