of horror.

More powerfully than ever he surged forward. He was too late to
catch another glimpse of the white face. But he had noted the
point at which it had sunk.

Taking a breath, Darrin took a dive downward, duck fashion. Holding
his breath, he went below, his eyes wide open, seeking as best
he could.

Down where the light of day reached him poorly Darrin caught sight
of something floating slowly past. It might have been a fish,
for all the sense of shape that reached Dave.

With an inward prayer the young crew captain surged downward and
forward. He grappled with--something--then fought his way the
surface, holding that something tightly.

As they shot above the water Darrin's blood danced for joy.

It was Page--"good old Page!"--whom he had brought to the top.

"Got him safe?" bellowed Farley, over the water.

Dave was too winded to answer. He thrust one hand above his head,
waving it joyfully. Then he let the hand fall that he might better
attend to his work.

For a few moments they floated there. The nearest of the sailing
cutters was now nearing the victims of the wreck.

The boat, however, would reach Darrin last of all.

While Darrin watched Farley and three others clambering aboard
the rescuing boat, the young crew captain trod water, supporting
Page at the same time.

Then Page opened his eyes, as though returning from a faint, rather
than reviving from a partial drowning.

"Hold me tight!" gasped Page, almost in a whisper. "I'm a fearfully
poor swimmer."

"I know," nodded Dave, "but I've got you, and I never let go of a
good thing."

Darrin's heart throbbed gratefully. All of the boat crew were
accounted for; not a man of his command lost.

Further off he could see Mr. Salisbury and the engineer of the
foundered power boat, each held up by a life-preserve.

But, though all of the wrecked middies were afloat, they were
as yet by no means safe. Some were so helpless that every man
who could keep himself afloat and help another was thus engaged.

Dave, after his strong exertions, found himself rapidly "playing
out." If help did not soon reach him he felt that he would be
exhausted.

"Can't you help yourself a little more, Mr. Page?" he asked.

Unnoticed by Darrin, Midshipman Page had been slowly relapsing
into unconsciousness. In the collision Page had been hit glancingly
on the head by the gaff of the falling mainsail.

Page heard Dave's query with a muddled mind.