Page:Cruise of the Dry Dock.djvu/134

 current that had closed up their avenue on the west side, had opened another on the east. Their way toward the schooner lay unobstructed.

The clean delightful seawater soothed the pain of their stinging flesh.

“We'll be there in fifteen minutes,” murmured Leonard weakly.

“When you're ready, say so,” said Greer with a frown still lingering on his heavy face.

At that moment Madden heard a groan from Caradoc.

“What's the matter?” aspirated the American.

“Nothing—weak—don't bother.” He closed his eyes, blew out his breath like a sick man. His face was bloodlessly sallow, and Madden could see his grip slipping on the canvas buoy.

“You're all in!” gasped Madden in exhausted staccato, “I knew you oughtn't to—aren't you about to faint again?”

The Englishman shook his head slightly. “Don't worry,” he murmured, then his eyes closed, his hands slipped loose.

With brusque directness, Madden caught the shock of tawny hair, jammed Caradoc's chin