The three swimmers could form little idea of the rate they were making
in the lifeless sea. At the end of half an hour, when Leonard looked
back at Hogan on the wall for signals, the dock still loomed above him,
a vast glare of red in the dazzling sunshine. It seemed impossible to
get away from it; the featureless red flare followed him as a mountain
peak seems to follow a traveler.
The sun beat oppressively on his head and blistered his shoulders
through his net undershirt. The warm water soaked the energy out of
limbs and arms. He changed from breast to over-arm stroke, then he
shifted to the crawl and trudgen stroke.
"Perhaps we'd better rest awhile, sir," suggested Greer, who came
puffing close behind.
"Beastly hot, this sun," Leonard ducked head and shoulders under water
for relief. His hat floated off and he grudged the slight effort to
retrieve it.
"How far are we?"
"Dock looks as close as ever--where's Smith?"
Greer nodded toward a small head and shoulders bobbing behind a little
white buoy.
At that moment, they heard the Englishman's voice calling, "To the
right!"
The boys turned and struck out ahead once more. They regretted having to
leave the straight line. As far as they could see there was no algae in
sight, the water was one glassy blue.
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