The sight renewed his strength. After what seemed a long while Jack
was able to clutch the collar of his chief officer. "Little Mack"
was unconscious.

By degrees Jack succeeded in turning over the limp form until it
floated face upward. Locking his left arm securely around the neck
of the apparently lifeless officer so that the face was held above the
surface of the water, and using his strong right arm and legs, Jack
began swimming as best he could in the general direction of the
submarine that he knew to be not far away.

The weight of the lieutenant's body dragged heavily upon his left arm.
His strength was ebbing away fast. His arm became numb and his senses
chaotic.

Instinctively the lad closed his eyes. It seemed he must let loose
the burden tugging in his arms and himself slip away into the depths
and into that long sweet sleep that seemed just now so alluring, so
compelling.

"Catch the rope when I fling it"---the words were borne into his
stifled senses. It sounded like the voice of his good chum.

Was it Ted? Again came the call, seemingly closer at hand. It was
Ted, now faintly, now more clearly. The sound of that voice
galvanized the youth in the water.

Jack flung out his free limbs in a frenzy of muscular energy. Something
loomed up in the blue of the sky near him and he beheld for one instant
the periscopes of the _Dewey_.