Beside, there is a drowning thought that he has gone out to die before
the rest. At the last, when he swung out as the Africa rolled toward
him he wanted to climb back.

Now the red fire is gone and Corkey can think. He believes he is
drowning. "It's because I wasn't a real sailor," he argues. "The
sailors knew better."

Something pulls him. It is the rope which he holds. He knows now that
he has a yawl on the end of that line. He pulls and pulls--and comes
up to the air, a choking, sneezing, exceedingly active human being.
The yawl is riding the water. He rolls into the boat at the prow. He
feels quickly for the oars and finds two that are in their locks.
Water is deep in the bottom. There is nothing to bail with.

But the joy of the little man is keen. "I'm saved! That's what I am!
I'm saved!"

He thinks he hears a new noise--a great sough--the pouring of waters.
He is moved sidewise in his boat. He wipes the mist from his eyes and
peers in all directions for the ship.

"Where in God's name is she?" It is the most frightful thought Corkey
has ever entertained.

The Africa has gone down. It is as sure as that Corkey sits in the
yawl, safe for the moment. The spirit of the man sinks with the ship,
and then rides high again.

"They're nothing to me!" he says. "I'm the only contestant, too!"