There is no worse sea boat than a
low, flat ducking boat, decked though she be, and of good coaming, for
she butts into and does not rise to a sea. But now, I thanked my star,
one thing only was in our favor. We rolled like a log, already half
full of water, but we floated, because in each end of our skiff was a
big empty tin air tank, put there in spite of the laughing protest of
the builder, who said no room was left for decoys under the decks.
Just now, those tin cans were worth more than many duck decoys.

"Keep down!" I ordered. "And hold on!" The boys obeyed me. I could
see their gaze bent on me, as the source of their hope, their
reliance. Jimmy was now free from the first violence of the
seasickness, but I saw Jean's hand on his arm.

"Gee!" I heard the latter mutter as the first sea crossed under us.
"Dat was a peach." I took heart myself, for we lived that one through.
"Bail!" I ordered, and they took their cups to it, while I did all I
could with the long punt paddle to make some sort of course. Now and
then the blazing trail of the _Belle Helene's_ search-light swung
across as we rolled, to leave us, the next instant, in blackness. As
the seas permitted, we could see her, riding and rocking, sometimes,
alight from stern to stern and making a gallant fight for her life, as
were we all.

So long as the rollers came in oily and black, we did well, but where
the top of one broke under us, we sank deep into the white foam that
had no carrying power, and our cockpit filled so that we all sat in
water. Only the tanks held us, log-like, and we bailed and paddled:
and after they saw we did not sink, my hardy bullies, perhaps in the
ignorance of youth and boy's confidence that a boy and water are
friends, began to shout aloud. We wallowed on.

No sound came to us from either of the other boats; and now, very
quickly it seemed, we came at the edge of the surf.

"I'm touching bottom, boys," I called, and cast the long punt pole
adrift as I took up the short paddle I had held under my leg.

Now we had under us two feet of water or ten, as the waves might say,
and any moment we might roll over; but we wallowed in, rolling, till I
knew the supreme moment had come. I waited, holding her head in well
as I could so unruly a hulk, and as a big roller came after us,
paddled as hard as I could. The wave chased us, caught us, pushed us,
carried us in. There was a lift of our loggish bows, a blinding crash
of white water a