“But if he’s dead already there’s no sense in your risking your life.”
“But he may not be dead. I’m going to try it, anyway.”
Without another word, Frank handed his coat to Chet and then made his way along the rocks at the base of the cliff. For a few yards his progress was uneventful, but as he reached the deep water and the great waves pounded against him he was obliged to exert all his strength to breast the angry surf.
Once he was knocked off his feet and the watchers had a glimpse of his head and outflung arms in a smother of foam, then he disappeared from sight. A moment later, however, they saw him emerge, dripping, beside a rock that jutted out of the water and pull himself up to safety.
He still had a perilous journey before he could reach the limp form at the base of the rocky wall. He rested for a moment, with waves breaking over him as he clung to the rock. Then the watching boys saw him slip down into the water again and flounder on.
“He’ll be battered to pieces!” exclaimed Biff.
“I wouldn’t give a nickel for his chances, myself,” said Chet.
Joe shook his head.
“He may get there all right, but if he tries to bring Captain Royal’s body back with him, he hasn’t a Chinaman’s chance.”
Frank was now but a few yards away from the shallow pool where the old man lay. He vanished for a moment, emerged from the waves, staggered a few paces, then a huge roller swept over him and sent him against the side of the cliff. But he was evidently unhurt, for the others saw him wave toward them. Then he plunged along the base of the wall, flattened himself against the cliff as another wave rolled down upon him, and then splashed into the little pool.
“He made it!”
“Yes. But can he get back?”
Frank was bending over the body of Captain Royal. The other boys saw him straighten up suddenly and wave to them. He shouted something but the roar of the waves drowned his voice.
“Perhaps he’s trying to tell us the captain is alive,” suggested Joe.
They saw Frank tugging at the limp form, trying to get a convenient grip on Captain Royal’s body.
“He’s too heavy for Frank. It’s hard enough for one person to get back through those waves alone, without dragging someone else along.”
But evidently Frank was going to try it.
Going to the pool, his danger had been that a wave would pick him up and dash him to pieces against the rocks. Returning, his danger was that he would be unable to pit his strength against the force of the waves at all, that he would become exhausted before he reached the open shore again.
He had hoisted Captain Royal’s body up until the old man’s arms were over his shoulders, and he gripped the wrists over his chest. The body was thus across his back.
Head down, Frank plunged forward out of the sheltered pool, directly into the waves.
The first breaker smashed against him with terrific force. He lost his balance, staggered and fell. The watchers groaned. They saw the two figures in the foam, saw that Frank had lost his grip on Captain Royal.
But Frank managed to get to his feet. Then he reached out and seized the captain by the back of the shirt. He was not beaten yet.
He dragged the unconscious form into the very heart of the raging waves, where they surged against the sharp rocks. Each time a mighty roller came toward them, its crest tipped with foam, he lowered his head and set himself for the shock. So, inch by inch, he forged his way forward until he was among the rocks.
Here his danger was at its worst.
The water was not deep but a misstep would have grave consequences for if he once fell the waves would batter him against the rocks and his chances of regaining a foothold would be slim.
He rested a while in the shelter of the largest rock, waited until a huge wave went by with a crashing roar, then, as the water receded, plunged on again. Once he seemed to stagger, but he kept his balance, somehow, and clung to another rock.
Another wave came rolling in. Frank lowered his head and waited for it.
Crash!
It broke over him in a cloud of flying spray. He was completely hidden for a moment, and the watchers on the beach were breathless with suspense.
Then, through the mist, they saw that he was still clinging to the rock.
Frank was almost exhausted now. His burden, a dead weight, was very heavy. The beach seemed very far away. There were more rocks to pass. He rested for a short while, then plunged on.
By a miracle, he kept his footing among the treacherous rocks, and by good judgment he managed to get set in time to resist the shock of the breaking waves. At last he felt the sand beneath his feet.
He had only a short distance to go now, but his knees gave way beneath him. He stumbled and fell. He lost his grip on the body of Captain Royal. A great wave broke over them.
But Joe and Chet and Biff were already wading toward them. In a moment, Frank felt strong hands seizing him. Half-conscious, he was dragged out of the water onto the sands.
“Captain Royal!” he stammered. “Get him! He’s all right!”
“Chet is bringing him in,” said Joe reassuringly.
“He’s unconscious,” gasped Frank, “but he’s alive.”
Then he collapsed, gasping and exhausted, on the sand. Chet came up, carrying the limp body of Captain Royal.
“He’s breathing!” declared Chet excitedly. “Frank saved him.”
XXIII
Back to Bayport
Captain Royal was unconscious, but he was still breathing. There was a bad cut on his head and it had bled profusely.
“We’d better get him
