Lying inertly across the submerged thwart were four men, their heads rolling grotesquely from side to side with every motion of the boat. On the stern-sheets, and partly supported by their cork lifebelts, were two others, who appeared to be leaning against each other for mutual support. Whether they were alive or dead it was impossible for the three onlookers to determine. "Come on!" shouted Biggs. "We'll have to get those fellows ashore or it will be too late." Quite unmindful of his former lack of nerve, Biggs began to descend the cliff path--a performance highly hazardous compared with the crossing of the chasm. Quick to second him, Derek and Kaye followed his example, descending the slippery steps at a tremendous pace. "You fellows hang on here," exclaimed Biggs. "If I want help I'll shout. You can do better on shore, I think. I'm going to swim off to her." Feverishly the cadet threw off his tunic, unlaced his breeches and unrolled his puttees in record time, and kicked off his boots. In less than a minute he was ready for the plunge, during which interval the waterlogged craft had drifted a dozen yards farther along the beach. The water felt horribly cold as Biggs waded in; it caused him to gasp violently. Then, settling down to a powerful breast-stroke, the cadet struck out in the direction of the derelict. At length he came within arm's length of the boat. Grasping the gunwale, he sought to clamber in, but the craft, having very slight buoyancy, dipped as his weight bore on the side. Obviously there was no chance of rowing the boat to the shore, even if there were oars on board. "I'll have to tow her," decided the swimmer. "It's a tough proposition; and isn't the water beastly nippy?" Groping for the painter, Biggs started to swim shorewards. The waterlogged boat responded ungraciously--in fact, so slowly that the swimmer was beginning to doubt his powers of endurance. "Stick it!" shouted Kaye encouragingly. "You're moving her. Shall we come out and give a hand?" Biggs shook his head. He could not trust himself to shout a reply. He wanted every ounce of breath to carry him through the ordeal. Yet he was obviously tiring. The numbing cold and the prolonged immersion were beginning to tell. "By Jove! he'll never do it," exclaimed Derek, who had already removed his boots and tunic. "We'll have to go in after him." Hurriedly the two chums threw off their clothes, and plunged in to the assistance of their comrade. They were only just in time, for although Biggs had succeeded in towing the boat to within twenty-five yards of the shore, he was on the point of being vanquished by the cold water. Comparatively fresh, Derek assisted Biggs to the shore, then, returning, swam to the stern of the whaler, while Kaye struck out with the painter. Under the combined action the boat was moved slightly faster, and presently, to the cadets' intense satisfaction, her fore-foot grounded on the soft sand.