She was drawing closer to the pair in the water!

On the deck stood a number of the crew disregarding the floating mines
that had been engaging their attention. Someone was whirling a rope,
aiming to throw it to the pair in the water. Every one seemed to be
yelling at the same time.

"Hold on---we are coming---don't let go---catch the rope!" Jack heard
the calls from his shipmates.

Out over the water spun a coil of rope---only to fall short of the
desired mark and trail off into the sea many yards from the floating
pair. Yes, it was Ted, winding frantically again, and yelling
encouragement to his chum.

"Hold 'em!" Ted shouted over and over again, just as the Brighton lads
had been wont to yell in unison at their football games when the
opposing eleven was smashing its way toward Brighton's goal. Once
again the coil was ready; once again it was flung outward from the
deck of the _Dewey_. This time it fairly lashed Jack's face. The
sting of the hemp seethed to whip new courage into him. Making one
last frantic effort he clutched and held the precious rope, just as
Ted sprang from the submarine and dived to the rescue.

Jack remembered no more. When he came to he was stretched in his bunk
in the hold of the _Dewey_. Ted was bending over him.

"Thank God you are alive, Jack, old chum!" Ted was murmuring, with
glad tears brimming from his eyes.