Caradoc stared. "You don't intend to _swim_ that distance--through
this heat?"
"There's a boat over there, and provisions, perhaps."
"And the crew?"
"It is quite possible that they sleep through the day which is utterly
becalmed and make some little headway at night with the slight evening
and morning breezes--it would be a task for a sailing vessel to work
herself out of the Sargasso."
"Why I never thought of that. I suppose it is possible."
Mulcher was returning with a buoy. The crew came forward behind the
navvy, on the _qui vive_ over this new undertaking.
"Faith, and hadn't ye betther sind one o' th' min, sir," suggested
Hogan, "an if he drowns, sir, Oi would take it to be a sign that it's a
dangerous swim."
"An' the sharks, Meester Madden," warned Deschaillon.
As Madden kicked off his clothes, he observed Caradoc stripping
likewise. Then Farnol Greer came running down the deck with another buoy
and a big clasp knife.
The American looked at these fellows. "Caradoc, you can't possibly hold
out that distance; you're weak."
"I've done ten miles in--at home."
Greer said nothing, but rapidly undressed.
All three kept on their hats and undershirts as protection against
sunburn. As Madden walked from the awning through the stinging sun rays,
crimping up his naked feet from the blistering deck, Galton called to
him.
Pages:
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84