CHAPTER X.
Besieged on the Sand Spit.
WILL lost no time in getting off his clothes. He felt hot and fishy,and the cool, tawny ripples allured him. Reube tested the anchor to seethat the _Dido_ held fast, and then began more slowly to undress. Theanchor had been dropped not more than thirty or forty feet from the sandspit, but the boat had swung off before the light breeze till thedistance was increased to a score of yards.
“That’s quite a swim for me, Will,” said Reube, doubtfully, eyeing thetide.
“Nonsense! You can swim twice as far as that if you only think so,”asserted Will with confidence. “By the way, I wonder what makes you sucha duffer in the water. That’s your weak point. I must take you in handand make a water dog of you.”
“I just wish you would,” said Reube. “I don’t seem to really get hold ofmyself in the water. I have to work frightfully hard to keep up at all,and then I’m all out of breath in less than no time. Why is it, Iwonder?”
“Well,” answered Will, “we’ll see right now. You swim over to the baryonder, and I’ll stand here and watch your action. I fancy you don’t useyour legs just right.”
“It’s too far. Pull her in a little way,” urged Reube.
Laughingly Will complied. He pulled on the rope till the _Dido_ wasalmost straight above the anchor. Then Reube slipped overboard with anawkward splash and struck out for the sand spit.
His progress was slow and labored. His strokes made a great turmoil, butproduced little solid result. Will’s face wore a look of amusedcomprehension, but he refrained from criticism till the swimmer hadreached his goal and drawn himself out panting on the sand.
“How’s that?” asked Reube.
“O, it’s all wrong! If it was anyone less obstinate than you he wouldn’tkeep afloat half a minute struggling that way,” answered Will. “But waita moment and I’ll show you what I mean.”
With a graceful curve Will plunged into the water as smoothly as if hehad been oiled. A few long, powerful strokes brought him to the spotwhere his comrade was standing.
“Now,” said he, “get in there in front of me when the water comes up tothe lower part of your chest. You use your legs wrong, and your armstoo. Your arms don’t make a quarter the stroke they ought to, and yourfingers are wide open, and your hands press out instead of down on thewater too much. Keep your fingers together, and turn your palms so thatthey tend to lift you, instead of just pushing the water away on eachside. And, moreover, finish your stroke!”
“And what about my legs?” asked Reube, humbly.
“Never mind them till we get the hands right,” insisted Will. “Now leanforward slowly, with your back hollowed well and chin up, your arms outstraight ahead, and straighten your legs. Right! Now round with yourarms in a big, fine sweep, drawing up your legs at the same time. That’smore like it. But your legs—you draw them up right under you with theknees close together. That’s all wrong. Didn’t you ever watch a frog,old man? As you draw up your legs spread your knees wide apart like oneof those tin monkeys shinning up a stick. Try again. M-m-m! Yes, that’ssomething like what I want. You see, with the knees doubled up wideapart they have their separate motions as you kick them out again. Thelegs press the water down, and so do some lifting. The feet push youahead, and at the same time you thrust a wedge of water backward frombetween your legs as they come strongly together.”
“That’s reasonable,” assented Reube, practicing diligently. In a fewminutes he had made a marvelous advance in his method. Will sometimesswam beside him, sometimes stood on the bar and criticised.
All at once, in the midst of an encouraging speech he clapped his handsto his heart with a cry of pain, sank upon the sand, and called outsharply:
“Come here quick, quick, Reube!”
Reube remembered his lessons even in his anxiety, and with long,powerful strokes made his way swiftly to Will’s side. As he landed Willstraightened himself up with a grave smile, and held one his hand todraw Reube back from the water’s edge.
“I’m all right now,” said he.
“But what was the matter?” queried Reube, in impatient astonishment.
“Why, just that,” replied Will, suddenly pointing to the water.
Reube turned and glanced behind him.
“_Sharks!_” he almost shouted. And there, sure enough, were two blacktriangular fins cleaving the water where he had just been swimming.
After staring for a moment or two in silence he turned again and met theinscrutable smile on his companion’s face. He held out his hand.
“I understand,” said he. “If I’d got flurried in the water I would haveforgotten the lessons you have just given me, and couldn’t have got toshore fast enough.” And in the love and admiration which glowed in hiseyes Will read sufficient thanks.
“Now the question is,” mused the latter, “how we’re going to get to theboat.”
“Seems to me we’d better stay right here for the present,” said Reube,drily.
“Yes,” suggested Will; “and when the tide gets a little higher whatthen?”
“Um!” said Reube, “I was forgetting this is not an honest island. Thisdoes certainly look awkward. But what do you suppose those chaps aredoing, cruising to and fro right there? Are they just catching herring?Or are they after us?”
“You would know what they were after if you had seen the way theystreaked in here when they got a glimpse of you,” responded Will.
“I don’t see what we’re going to do about it,” said Reube presently,after they had gazed at their dreadful besiegers in gloomy silence. “Butthere’s something in the way of a weapon which we might as well secureanyway.” And running to the other side of the sand spit he snatched up abroken picket which had been left there by the previous ebb. “It’sbetter than nothing,” he insisted.
“Reube,” said Will, “if we stay here it’s all up with us pretty soon.We’ll just make a dinner for those chaps. It seems to me I’d better takethat stick you’ve got there and make a dash for the _Dido_. You know Iswim wonderfully fast, and dive like a fish; and I can perhaps manage tojab the sharks with that picket, or scare them off by making a greatsplash in the water. If I succeed in getting to the _Dido_ I’ll bringher over for you, and we’ll fix the enemy with a couple of bullets.”
“No,” said Reube, doggedly, grasping the other firmly by the shoulder.“You just wait here. We’ll fight this thing out side by side, as we havefought things out before. Remember the cave, Will! And we won’t fighttill we have to. We’re safe for a half hour yet anyway.”
“And then the distance between us and the boat will be all the greater,”urged Will.
“No, the wind’s falling and it may turn and blow the _Dido_ over thisway,” insisted Reube. “See, the fitful little gusts now. Or one of theother boats may come in sight near enough for us to hail her. You nevercan tell what may happen, you know.”
Indeed, as a matter of fact, Reube was right. He could not tell whatwould happen. What actually did happen was neither of the things whichhe had suggested, and yet it was the most natural thing in the world.