Dave Darrins Third Year at Annapolis | Page 7

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