"I! I!" puffed Caradoc, whose spurt had blown him badly. "I said nothing
about sharks!"
"Well, what did you say?" demanded Greer.
Caradoc thought back fretfully. "I said we were running into a _cul de
sac_."
"A cool de sock!" repeated Greer with irritation. "What did you want to
say 'cool de sock' for?"
"I was calling to a gentleman," panted Smith with an edge of temper in
his tone, "and here you've swung us clear off our bearings because you
didn't know a common French phrase----"
"French! I'm no Frenchman! Why don't you talk English!"
The two tired, worried, overheated men were rapidly brewing a quarrel,
when Madden interrupted.
"Look how close we are to that schooner! If somebody would raise another
shark alarm, we'd land plump on her decks."
"Yes, but this Zulu here has run us straight into a loop of seaweed
it'll take two hours' swimming to get out of--_cul de sac_, school
of sharks! Why the two phrases scarcely resemble each other!"
Madden turned longing eyes toward the motionless schooner that was not
more than three-quarters of a mile distant. "Say, it's too bad to turn
around and swim away from that vessel!" he lamented wearily, "and this
sun is fierce!"
"I say let's try going through!" encouraged Greer.
"It'll be--difficult," warned Caradoc.
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