Frank and Andy Afloat | Page 8

Can you haul us in, and manage the boat?"
"I've just got to!" cried Andy, shutting his teeth in grim determination. "The boat will ride all right out here. The wind isn't quite so bad now. Take care of yourself."
"I will. Shake!"
The brothers clasped hands. Frank well knew the peril of his undertaking, no less than did Andy. They stood on the heaving, sloping deck of the Gull, and looked into each other's eyes. They understood.
"Watch close, and pull when you see me wave to you," ordered the older lad, as he fastened the rope about his waist.
"All right," answered Andy, in a low voice.
With a quick glance about him, noting that the wounded lad was still struggling feebly in the water, Frank dived overboard. He disappeared beneath the green waves with their crests of foam, and for a moment Andy anxiously watched for his brother. Then he saw him reappear, and strike out strongly toward the other youth. Frank was an excellent swimmer.
"That's the way to do it!" murmured Andy, admiringly. "If anybody can save him, Frank can."
The younger lad was braced against the tiller, standing in a slanting position, his feet planted firmly in the cockpit, while he payed out the rope, one end of which was about Frank's waist, and the other made fast to a deck cleat.
"To the left. To the left!" yelled Andy suddenly, as he saw his brother taking a slightly wrong course. The spume in his eyes, and the bobbing waves which now and then hid the wounded lad from sight, had confused Frank. The latter made no reply, but his hand, raised above the water, and waved to Andy, told that he understood the hail.
Frank changed his course, still swimming strongly. The wind had again begun to blow hard, and the Gull was drifting nearer the rocks, yet Andy dared not send her out for fear of pulling Frank with him. He must stand by until--
Carefully he payed out the line. He could see it slipping through the green water. Then he caught a glimpse of his brother on the crest of a wave. The next moment he saw how close he was to the lad he had so bravely set out to save.
"Tread water! Don't swim! Tread water and save your strength!" cried Andy to the injured one. The boy heard and obeyed.
In another moment Frank was near enough to clasp the almost exhausted lad in his strong right arm. Andy saw this and there was no need for the signal which his brother gave an instant later. Frank was on his guard lest the youth he was rescuing might clasp him in a death grip. But the latter evidently knew something about life saving, for he placed his uninjured hand on his rescuer's shoulder and let Frank do as he would.
Andy began to haul in on the rope. It was hard work to do this, and manage the boat at the same time, but he did it somehow--how he never could really tell afterward. But he had something of his brother's grim determination and that was just what was needed in this emergency.
Slowly the rope came in, pulling the rescuer and the rescued one. Without it that life could never have been saved, for the waves were running high, and there was a current setting in toward the sharp, black rocks.
Foot by foot Frank and his almost unconscious burden were pulled toward the Gull.
"Can you keep up?" asked the elder Race lad.
"I--I guess--so," was the faint reply.
"We'll be there in a minute now. You'll soon be all right!"
The other did not answer. Valiantly Andy hauled in, until his brother's head was right under the rail.
"I'll take him now," called Andy, as he let go of the tiller, and reached for the lad Frank had saved. With a strong heave Andy got him over the side. He slumped down into the cockpit, unconscious. A moment later Frank clambered on board and quickly untied the rope from his waist.
"Quick, Andy!" he cried. "Mind your helm! We're drifting on the rocks again!"
"Look out for this lad. I'll steer clear!" yelled his brother in reply, as he sprang back the tiller, after hoisting the sail.
Frank lifted the unconscious form in his arms, and moved the wounded lad over to a pile of tarpaulins. With all his strength Andy forced over the tiller, for the wind was strong on the sail, and the waves were running high, their salty crests filling the atmosphere with spume, while a fine spray drenched those aboard the Gull.
Suddenly there was a scraping sound, and the little craft shivered from stem to stern.
"The rocks! The rocks! We're on the rocks!" cried Frank, as with blanched face he looked up from where he was kneeling over the silent form of the lad