“It’s too cold for swimming, and you can’t catch her!” Bethune expostulated breathlessly.
“I must do the best I can,” said Jimmy, flinging off his jacket and plunging into the water.
They left him and ran along the beach, stumbling among the stones. It was some distance to the dory, and darkness was coming on. The _Cetacea_ would drift to leeward fast, and they feared that she would be out of sight before they could begin the chase, but they might be in time to pick up their exhausted comrade. There was no doubt that he soon would become exhausted, because the water was icy cold, and a short, troubled swell worked into the bay. Besides this, the horror of their position lent them speed. It looked as if they would be left without food or shelter from the inclement weather on the desolate island. They had not even a line to catch fish with, and Bethune remembered that he had only three or four loose matches in his pocket.
He fell into a hollow between two boulders, hurting his leg, but was up again in a moment, making the best speed he could, with Moran clattering among the rocks a yard or two behind. Fortunately, the tide was almost up to the dory when they reached her. Thrusting her off they jumped on board and rowed with savage determination, pulling an oar each. The light craft lifted her bows and leaped forward in time to their powerful strokes, but a steeper swell was working in against the wind as the tide rose, and the long undulations checked her. Though the air was keen, the sweat dripped from the men as they rowed with throbbing hearts and labored breath, turning their heads for a glance forward every now and then.
They could not see their comrade, but that was hardly to be expected: a man’s head is a small object to distinguish at a distance in broken water. The _Cetacea_, however, was still visible, and she did not seem to be much farther offshore. It was possible that Jimmy had got on board, and that they might overtake her before she felt the full force of the wind. The hope put fresh heart into them, and they strained every muscle to drive the dory faster across the irregular heave.
When Jimmy plunged into the icy water he gasped as it closed about him. The cold took away his breath and paralyzed his limbs, and he let his feet fall with an unreasoning desire to scramble out again. This, however, lasted only for a moment; before he could touch bottom he overcame the impulse, and, throwing his left hand forward, struck out vigorously. His was not a complex character, and his normal frame of mind was practical rather than imaginative, but he had been endowed with certain Spartan virtues. Moreover, he had learned in the sailing ships that what is needful must be done, no matter how the flesh may shrink.