At last Ken straightened his aching back. 'It's no use, Roy. The water's
gaining. I can't keep it down.'
'You needn't tell me that. I've been over my ankles the last five minutes,
and she's pulling like a sunk log.'
'What are we going to do?' said Ken--'Try for the Fountain landing?'
'Might as well, I suppose. Any chance of picking up another boat, d'ye
think?'
'Pretty slim, I fancy,' answered Ken. 'There are sure to be sentries
there. You see, it's the sort of place where our people might attempt a
landing.'
[Illustration: '"She's leaking like a sieve."']
'Could we try for the other side?' suggested Roy.
'Out of the question,' said Ken. 'We're opposite Sari Siglar Bay. The
Straits are nearly three miles wide here.'
Roy gave a short laugh. 'Looks as if we should have to swim for it after
all,' he said. 'Well, the only thing is to keep going until she sinks
under us. Then we must scramble ashore and take our chances.'
He pulled on again, and Ken betook himself to his everlasting task of
baling.
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