“What’s up?”

“Nothing,” returned Dalzell soberly.  “Canty’s down—­just gone down again.”

“I hope he’s gone down trying to find and rescue Ella,” murmured Dave.

They were now so close that the young midshipmen would have been able to hear the shouts of the imperiled ones had it not been that the wind blew the sounds of voices away from the would-be rescuers.

“Better ease off the sheet a bit, I guess, Davy,” called Dan, as he suited the action to the word.  “We don’t went to run ’em down.”

“No.”

As he spoke, Dave Darrin brought the boat slightly around.  They were now close enough to see that Tom Foss was supporting dead weight in the person of Susie, who was unconscious.

“Waiting the word from you on the sheet, Davy,” nodded Dan, as the boat drew close to the only pair of survivors now visible.

“Let go the sheet!” called Dave an instant later, and Dan let it run off clear, handing the end of the rope to Darrin.

“Can you head Susie this way, Foss?” Dalzell called.

“I’d rather have help,” came the faint answer.  Tom Foss was evidently well spent by his exertions in keeping up the girl so long.

Splash!  Dan Dalzell was in the water, without waiting to hear more.  The athletic young midshipman swam with a steadiness and speed that was glorious to see.  Many an excellent swimmer, in smooth water, would dread buffeting with such waves as were now rolling.

Dave Darrin, meanwhile, held on to the tiller and the paid-out sheet, ready to manoeuvre the now pitching, rolling boat at an instant’s notice.  It took all his seamanship to keep the craft afloat, though the sailboat was far better modeled for such water than the motor launch had been.

“Give her over to me, and save yourself,” commanded Dalzell cheerily, as he reached Tom Foss.  “Think you can make it, old fellow?”

“If I can’t, I ought to drown,” retorted Tom Foss, as he struck out, none too strongly.  “This is all my fault.  You fellows gave me better advice than I had sense to follow.”

Dan, with a skill that he had acquired directly from the excellent instruction given him by the swimming master at the Naval Academy, was now piloting the unconscious form of Susie Danes toward the sailboat.

Even encumbered as he was, Dan made the boat before Tom Foss could accomplish that feat alone.  Truth to tell, Foss was very nearly “all in.”  Had rescue been delayed a few moments longer, Foss and his fair companion must have sunk.

“Get hold of her, Davy,” called Dan, as he ranged up on the weather side of the tossing boat.

Darrin promptly leaned over and lifted the unconscious girl into the boat.  By the time he had done that Tom Foss reached up both hands, seizing the boat’s stern.

“Going to help me in?” he called.

“I don’t know,” Dave answered dubiously.

“If we can find Ella Wright there may not be room.  With such a sea running, this boat won’t hold many.”