CHAPTER XXVII SUSPENSE

“What’ll we do?” Skippy cried. “Gee, what’ll we do?”

“We’ll be swimmin’ for it, kid,” Big Joe answered, his face ashen and drawn. “Inland Beach’s nearest—we’ll be swimmin’ it in a half hour, takin’ it aisy like.”

“Easy! In this water and wind?”

“Skippy, don’t be worryin’. Sure and I ain’t goin’ to see ye go down. I’ll be keepin’ ye up if it takes me life.”

Suddenly Skippy turned, pleading. Big Joe knew and his eyes dropped before the boy’s accusing gaze.

“And what can I be doin’ about the Davy Jones now, kid!” he protested “I got ye to be thinkin’ about now.... Sufferin’ swordfish!” He groaned.
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“Then we gotta swim to Inland Beach as fast as we can, Big Joe,” Skippy said, master of himself once more. “We gotta get help right away for the Davy Jones!”

“Sure, sure,” the big fellow moaned, “anythin’, kid, only don’t be lookin’ at me so accusin’. Did I know it was goin’ to happen like this? Sufferin’ swordfish!”

“C’mon, Big Joe—c’mon!”

They had no sooner jumped clear of the boat than she sank out of sight. A terrific gale blew them along and Skippy kept close to Tully, buoyed up by the thought that he must keep going in order to get help for the Davy Jones.

And for once Tully was right in a prediction. It took them all of the half hour before they sighted the sandy wastes of Inland Beach.

The summer colonists sheltered from the storm in their inadequately built bungalows sighted the bobbing heads of the swimmers as they battled their way against the tide. Speedily the beach was covered with people and the life-guards, summarily dragged from their bunks in their beach shanty, jumped drowsy-eyed into the life-boat and went into action.

Ten minutes later, the two were rushed up to the guards’ shanty and hurriedly divested of their dripping garments.
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“We gotta ...” Skippy began as soon as he had a chance to talk.

“We thought we heard a siren,” Big Joe interposed. “Sure, it sounded like distress—there ain’t a doubt.”

“We heard it plain!” Skippy exclaimed anxiously. “An’ it came from the Channel—didn’t it, Big Joe, huh?”

“Sure and he’s right. ’Tis about where I figgered she was comin’ from,” Tully added.

“An’ we better start right out again!” Skippy said eagerly. “With this high wind....”

“A guy hasn’t much chance in the Channel,” interposed one of the guards bluntly. “I can tell you that before we start. And if it wasn’t that you say you’re sure you heard it, we wouldn’t take a chance ourselves. Even a big tub like ours ain’t a match for the Channel in a storm and high wind.”

“But we’re sure we heard it! Ain’t we, Big Joe?”

“Sure we did that!” Tully said emphatically.

And so they started for the Channel.

The wind died down shortly after they had lost sight of Inland Beach. Presently the rain ceased and after a few moments’ struggle with storm clouds, the sun came smiling through.
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Skippy smiled too, hopeful that it augured well for the object of their search. Tully relaxed and took a cigarette that one of the guards offered him. He talked little and kept his eyes ahead.

They reached the Channel in a half hour and for a full hour they searched it up and down. Skippy kept his eyes on the water; he dared not let the guards see the hopelessness written there should his glance chance to meet Tully’s.

“Sure we couldn’t be dreamin’ we heard a siren, now could we?” Tully pleaded when the guards announced their intention of returning to the beach.

“You guys didn’t seem to be so sure you heard any at all when we first got you out of the water,” one of the men reminded them.

“Sure and we were kind o’ all in from the breaks we got,” Tully explained. His voice sounded hollow and weary.

“Well, we don’t hear no siren now,” said the other guard, “and we’ve been up and down the Channel. If there was any guy in distress, maybe he’s been swept out to sea. And we can’t go hunting that far for you fellers. We’ll send out word to the coast guard anyway when we get back just to be on the safe side. They’ll find the tub if it’s still afloat.”
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“An’ if there was any siren signaling distress when that high wind first come up,” said the first guard, “she’s most likely screeching now for to get into Davy Jones’ locker. Who knows?”

Skippy and Big Joe would have given their lives at that moment to know.