distance, then sprang
overboard, striking out desperately.

Word had been carried to the "Greytown's" bridge, and the big craft
was slowing up as rapidly as her headway permitted, while an officer
and several men rushed to lower and man a boat. Yet the boat, when
it struck the water, was something more than a quarter of a mile away
from the spot where the young woman and her brother had fallen overboard.

"Why don't some of the champion swimmers of the class go overboard to
Mr. Benson's assistance?" rang Ensign Trahern's voice, sternly.

Apparently that was all the middies were waiting for.

Instantly uniform caps littered the platform deck. Uniform blouses
followed. A group of white-shirted middies raced for the rail.

Splash! splash! splash! The water shot up in tiny columns of spray
with so many young midshipmen diving overboard.

Even Ensign Trahern was startled by the promptness with which his
question had been met.

"No more men go overboard!" bellowed Mr. Trahern.

Splash! splash! The order had come too late to stop these last divers.
A solitary midshipman, hatless and with his blouse half off, stood
beside the ensign, both of them knee-deep in discarded parts of uniform,
while Eph peered out from the conning tower.

"That was kind of a mean trick, sir, to play on me! I'm the only one
that didn't get-over," grinned the last midshipman, sheepishly.

It was a gross violation of discipline, so to address an officer. But
Ensign Trahern merely smiled, for this once, as he replied:

"Never mind, Mr. Satterlee. You'll be needed to stand by with me and
help some of these venturesome ones aboard again."

Jack's start had been a good one, and he was a lusty swimmer.

He headed straight for the young woman, whose cries reached him across
the water.

She could not swim, but her skirts, spreading, were buoying her up
briefly. When these skirts became thoroughly soaked they would fall,
enclosing her in an envelope of considerable weight.

The brother, on the other hand, could swim a little. He had begun to
do so, instinctively, striking out for his sister.

Yet, before he could reach her, his buoyancy gave out, his limbs cramping.

With a despairing cry he sank.

"Tread water! Tread! Keep up until I reach you!" called Jack, clearly,
as he fought on to reach the young woman.

Her skirts were beginning to fill and drop. She might have trod water,
but she did not understand how it was done.