As he spoke, the left wing tip caught a wave and went under. The whole plane shuddered, swung about and lost the remainder of its speed. Another wave slapped loudly against the listing fuselage.
Don Winslow unsnapped his safety belt and faced around.
"Water'll be coming through those holes under our feet in a moment," he said tersely. "We'd better unlash our prisoner and get him out of here, quick!"
"Aye-aye, Skipper!" gulped Red, bending over the Scorpion pilot. "I made him fast on the deck here, seeing there were only two safety belts, and--great guns, Don! He's wounded! Bleeding from the head! Help me...."
Whipping a seaman's knife from under his blouse, Don quickly cut the lashings which held the unconscious man. Turning, he slid open the metal door of the cabin.
"You go through, Red, and wait for me to pass him out," the young commander said. "The fellow's still breathing. Put on your life belt first, and make it snappy. This crate's going to end over in a minute!"
Red obeyed instantly. Without waiting even to fasten the life belt, he plunged through the open door into the water. There, clinging to the fuselage, he waited for the pilot's body to be passed out.
It came, suddenly heaved through the wave washed opening, _with Don's life belt lashed in place_!
Startled, Red Pennington lost his grip, and drifted free. A second glance at the white face bobbing above the cork belt made the man's identity certain. It was the pilot, all right. But why didn't Don come?
Before Red could more than shout his friend's name, the seaplane listed more sharply than ever, forcing the cabin door under water. Don Winslow was trapped inside. He could still dive down through the doorway and swim clear, Red thought, but the air in the cabin now wouldn't last for long.
"Don's hurt, or caught in there!" Red groaned, stroking back to the half-submerged fuselage. "If he weren't he'd be out by now. There's just one way to get him, and if that fails, we'll both go down together!"
Slipping out of his unfastened life belt, he dived under the plane's wave-battered fuselage, groping for the door. A moment later he found it.
The cabin was dark, half full of water, and almost upside down. It took a few seconds for Red to get his bearings. As his eyes got accustomed to the dim light, he made out the pale blur of Don Winslow's face.