Ray saw a distorted mass of clothing and legs rise to the surface just under him. It was whirled round and round by the force of the undercurrent for a brief instant before it started to sink again. Blindly the lad reached over the side and clutched. His fingers closed upon a cold and clammy wrist, to which he clung despite the surging and tearing of the current.
Forgetful of the danger for the moment, Lanky Sims let go the tiller and reaching a long arm into the water seized hold of the big foreman too. Then together they dragged him over the gunwale and into the boat. And while Jack and Ray took care of the all but drowned foreman, Sims directed the whaleboat out of the lashing water and toward the open sea where there were only the long rollers to combat.
The two boys worked manfully over Big O’Brien. First they got all of the water out of his lungs. Then with him lying prone in the bottom of the boat they started artificial respiration, as Jack had been taught it by the football coach at Drueryville Academy. For fully fifteen minutes the boys labored over the foreman while Sims and the rest of the crew looked on in silence. And gradually their efforts told, for O’Brien’s eyelids quivered once or twice and finally opened. Two red spots began to show in his ashen cheeks, and after a few moments he regained consciousness.
“Phwat happened?—ugh—O, shur-re I know. The big wave caught me, huh?” he said rather thickly as he sat up.
“It didn’t on’y ketch ye but it smashed t’ life ha’af outen ye,” said Lanky Sims.
“How about Mr. War-rner,” demanded O’Brien, turning and looking toward the big rock. Then for the first time the men in the boat thought of the engineer.
There on the top of Cobra Head stood the lighthouse builder. He had seen the accident and the rescue as well, and Jack could guess what his feeling must have been as he waited there for a signal to tell him whether his foreman was alive or dead.
“Wave to him, O’Brien. Wave your hand and show him that you are still alive,” cried Jack. And the big Irishman struggled to his feet and, holding on to Lanky Sims, waved and shouted as loud as he could.
Mr. Warner answered the signal with a warning wave, which told the men in the boat quite plainly that he wanted them to keep off and not attempt to land another man.
“Sur-r I’d like t’ thr-ry anither fling at it jist t’ show meself that I can’t be bate be a duckin’, but if the boss sez ‘No,’ thin ‘No’ ’tiz. Come on, Lank, thur-rn t’ boat and we’ll go back t’ th’ island.”