ruck the water, and went down, down,
down!

But Frank did not lose consciousness. And as he came to the surface, he
supported himself by a gentle motion of his hands and feet, and tried to
look about. He knew how great was his peril. But his thoughts were not
wholly of himself. He thought of Inza and Elsie, of Hodge and his other
friends. What had befallen them? Had they, too, been hurled into the sea
by that awful shock? If so, there could be little doubt that some of
them, if not all, would be drowned.

He shouted for assistance, and heard a hoarse whistle not far away. He
could see nothing, for the fog was as impenetrable as a blanket He began
to swim toward the sound. He could not tell whether the whistle was that
of the tug or the _Merry Seas_ or of some other vessel. Again he sent up
a call for help. The water was cold and his clothing heavy. He was
thinking of trying to get out of his shoes and outer coat, when he heard
a human cry not far away.

"Help! help!" some one called.

"Help! help!" Frank shouted.

But instead of swimming on, he turned in the direction of the cry. It
indicated a human being in distress and peril, and he felt that he might
be able to save a life.

"Help!" came the cry again.

The voice was so choked and thick, and there was such a rush of water in
his ears that Merry could not tell much about it, yet it seemed
familiar. It was near at hand, too; and, sending back an answering call,
Frank swam straight toward it.

"Help!" was shouted, right at hand now, for the voice seemed to be
drifting toward him.

"Where are you?"

For answer, Merriwell received a heavy blow on the head and breast from
a piece of timber. He went under with a cry, his head ringing and his
senses reeling.

The next thing he knew, he was stretched out on some sort of raft, and
some one was holding him there by sheer force. His feet and legs were
trailing through the water. The whistle of the steamer or tug sounded
again, but farther away.

"Is that you, Merry? How are you feeling?"

It was a familiar voice, though thick and husky--the voice of Bart
Hodge.

It steadied Merriwell's reeling brain. He took hold of the boards and
sought to draw himself still higher on them.

"That you, Hodge?"

"Yes. I thought that was you, Merry. How are you?"

"Soaked. But I guess I am all right. Something hit me on the head and
shoulders, and I went under. I was swimming this way. Heard somebody
call."

"I called,