He sank, and perhaps it was well for him he did, for he managed to clear his feet; and although the water was roaring in his ears, and he had swallowed a lot of it, he got to the surface and at once struck out for the boat, which was only a short distance off. He thought he could right her. He was mistaken, for he only puffed himself, and the _Jenny_ filled and slowly sank, sail and broken mast and all. Antony could not have believed it was so difficult to swim a long way with clothes on. At first it appeared to be so easy. But, instead of getting nearer to the shore, it looked receding from him. He tried floating. Oh, it was horrible, so he began to swim again; but soon got excited and put more strokes into it than there was any necessity for. He tried treading water, but the cruel waves lapped up over his face and almost suffocated him. Poor Antony was drowning! He knew not that, at this very moment, two men in a camp-boat were dashing rapidly on towards him. Drowning! Did the events of his past life come up in review before him? No, that is but landlubbers' nonsense. There were the horrid noises in his ears, flashes of bright confused light in his eyes, a terrible sensation of choking, and a feeling of pain in the top of the head, then--nothingness. * * * * * Mary and Skeleton and Chops, with others, were on the beach when, through the surf, the rescuing boat sped in and grounded. The two men leapt quickly out and dragged her high and dry, then, to poor Lotty's horror and anguish, the apparently lifeless body of Frank Antony Blake was lifted out and laid on the sand. One of his arms fell right over a tuft of green benty grass whereon a bush of sea-pinks was blooming. It looked as if in death he was hugging the flowers. 'He is dead!' That was Biffins's remark. And he stood there callous-looking, touching the body with his toe. The terrible truth is that this matter-of-fact gipsy was wondering how much he would get for the 'Gipsy Queen' caravan when he resold her. 'No--no--fa--father, he is not dead!' Lotty could hardly speak for the time being. She felt choking, and tore at her neck, while her face grew hot and flushed. But in a few seconds she gasped and recovered self-possession. She now remembered that she had a book in the caravan which gave instructions how to restore the apparently drowned. Part of the instructions she could repeat, and did to the men. 'Do that,' she cried, 'till I come back with the book.' Then she tore off to the 'Silver Queen,' and, book in hand, when she returned, she proceeded to issue instructions to the men, which they tried to obey to the letter. But she had time to call Chops. 'Mount,' she said, 'mount my horse Renegade and fly for Dr Wilson.' In a minute or two more, though white and breathless, Chops was off like the wild wind along the sands.