The All-Story, March 1914 — page 131: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

604 round showed him Baird, who had just reached the landwardend of the wharf, and another glance showed a rusted spike at his knee. Without hesitation he swung himself off the timber, hold- Ing to fhe spike with his left hand. A desperate clutch with his right gave hint the end of the dory painter just as it flipped clear. The heavy dory in the grip of the tide almost instantly drew the painter taut. Young Thomas, sweating with fear and exertion, clung like deatli, ex- pecting every second to feel Paul’s grip about his wrist. But the pier was two hundred feet long, and, before Baird, racing at top speed, could complete halt, the rust- bitten spike to which Jerry clung snapped off short, and the youth, with a scream of terror, plunged into the water. When Paul arrived at the string- piece he was coatless and shirtless. It took but a few seconds to kick off his shoes, and then, drawing a deep breath, he dived beyond the spot where Jerry had disappeared. Fighteen-year-old Jerry Thomas was no exception to the rule that fishermen cannot swim. He camep half full of water and in the paroxysms of strangu- lation. Baird, gasping from the icy shock, rose behind him, and for a mo- ment waited. Then with a swift movement he grabbed the other by the collar and threw him on his back. The boy fought like a tiger to come to death-grips, but Baird watched him, and, swimming strongly with one hand, pulled him against one of the piles under the pier. Instinct with life to the last, Jerry clung frenziedly. Now above their heads sounded the drumming of feet, mingled with the shouts of men and the wailing of woe. “ Here, catch this line!’ cried a voice. “ We'll pull you up.” Paul seized the rope as it struck the water and put it into Jerry’s hands. Then he glanced toward shore. Men were trying desperately to launch a THE ALL-STORY MAGAZINE. boat off the rocks into the surf. Mean- while he knew that the dory with the two children was sweeping swiftly to- ward the tumble of the sea and tide- rip in the harbor-mouth. He doubled his feet under him against the pile and shot out from the pier. He saw the dory a hundred away, and the tide-rip three hundred beyond that, tossing and shaking tts white spray into a hundred fantastic shapes. He could hear the roar of it above the whistle of the wind. He gulped a lungful of air and thrust his head down. Then those on the pier saw oply the swift, powertul overhand reach of his arms and the churning wake that his feet made as they rapidly beat the water. There were choppy waves in the bay, but he went through them rather than over them, surging along like some sea creature. Presently he flung his head up, gulped more air, laid a fresh course for the dory, and plowed on. Now he was half-way to his goal and gaining fast. launched a dory, and a man was tr- ing frantically to get a spark out of the damp engine. On the pier they had hauled Jerry Thotnas to safety. Alternately breathing and sprinting, Baird caught the dory when it was less than a hundred yards from the tide-rip. With a great heave of his shoulders he drew himself up over the stern and fell exhausted in the bottom where the two children were huddled, crying pitifully. Only for a moment did he lie there. Struggling to his knees, he seized the long oar and fitted it in the notch astern. Then, obeying some recrudes- cent impulse of his former life, he began to scull, rocking the dory from side to side with great rhythmic sweeps. Now there came the staccato roar of a wide-open gasoline engine, and | Il a moment a motor-dory containing | two men careened out from tralian the pier and headed deward hign|icc ao yards. On shore they had_