The oak oars bent and creaked under the strain. The whaleboat shot backward and full into the oncoming wave. For a fraction of a second it stopped dead and every timber quivered. Then with a rush it shot backward again and the wave slipped under it and hurled itself into the trough, its great curling tongue licking up the side of the rock as if seeking to tear Mr. Warner from the little niches to which he clung.
But the engineer was safe. He was drenched with foam and spray, but he was well out of the way of the dangerous water. Up he climbed, slower now, feeling his way from place to place; while the boat backed off to a safe distance and the crew watched his progress. Finally he gained the top and stood erect. Then, what a shout went up from the men in the whaler!
It was O’Brien’s turn now. The big Irishman stood up in the bow while Sims began maneuvering the boat once more. Again it approached the rock slowly, riding in on the long waves until it began to get dangerously near the big boulder. Then the tall Yankee at the tiller waited, tense and alert, watching his chance to run in immediately after a big wave had spent itself, and back the boat out of danger before the next wave could hurl it against the granite and shatter it into splinters.
The chance came. A big wave burst with a roar against the rock, the spray splashing in all directions. Then, as the tons of water slipped back again, Sims roared his “Yo-heave-ho” command.
In shot the boat against the curling, sucking eddies. Big O’Brien balanced a moment on the gunwale and leapt forward. Into the trough he dropped. Then began the scramble for the first niche before the next wave surged in and seized him. Up he climbed over the slippery stone. He reached the first of the grooves and was trying to get a foothold in another when—his hand slipped! The next moment he shot down the trough and back to the very spot upon which he had landed! Frantically he struggled to his knees, then to his feet, only to slip prone again. Then with a hiss and a roar the next wave came curling in. He was doomed!
The force of the water hurled him up the slippery trough, raised him high in the air and dropped him backward, helpless, into the spume at the base of the rock.
“Merciful Providence protect him! He’s gone!” cried Sims, turning white.
Jack and Ray were numb with horror. Big O’Brien had been whisked from the face of the earth like a straw.
But before they could collect their scattered wits Lanky Sims’ voice was heard again above the roar of the water.
“Look! Quick! There he is! On the port side! You boy, grab him! There! See him!”