He grabbed frantically, hoping that his hands might come in contact with some projection to which he could cling, but the slippery sides of the hull slid past him at what seemed almost express train speed.
He was almost on the point of diving again to get away from the dangerous spot, when suddenly, his fingers closed over something.It was a rope, one of the hawsers that had not been fully hauled in when the boat left the last landing place some miles up the river.
With a glad cry, both the lad's hands closed over the precious rope.His joy was short lived.He found himself dropping back, the river craft still gliding past him.
The rope was paying out over the boat's side in his hands.
Phil Forrest was never more cool in his life, but he now began to realize the well-nigh hopeless position in which be found himself placed.
Suddenly the rope ceased paying out with an abruptness that jerked him clear out of the water.He fell back with a splash, all but losing hold of the rope as he did so.
"I've got it! I've got it!" exulted the lad.A rush of water filled his mouth, almost suffocating him.
"I guess I had better keep my mouth closed," thought the boy.
He was directly astern of the steamboat by this time, and this placed him in a much more favorable position than he had been while dragging along at the side.
Phil began resolutely to work himself along the rope hand over hand.It was a desperate undertaking, one calling for strength and courage of an unusual kind, but he never hesitated.His breath came in long, steady, sighs, for he was going though the water at such a rate of speed that breathing was made doubly difficult.
"It is a good thing I am a circus performer.I should probably have been at the bottom of the river long ago, had I not been a ring man."At last, after what seemed hours of struggling, he had succeeded in working his way past the stern paddle wheel, and up under the stern of the ship.He twisted the rope about one arm, and with his head well out of water lay half exhausted while he was shot through the water at high speed.
A few minutes of this, and Phil, considerably rested, began to pull himself up.
Ordinarily this hand over hand climb would have been an easy feat for the Circus Boy.As it was, however, the lad was forced to pause every foot or so, and, twisting the rope about an arm and a leg, hang there between sky and water, gasping for breath, every nerve and muscle in his body a-quiver.
Few men, no matter how strong nor how great their endurance, could have gone through what Phil Forest had endured that night.
He was glad to be out of the water, where he was in imminent danger of being drowned as the boat jerked him along.Of course he was not obliged to cling to the rope, but the chances of his reaching shore, were he to let go, he felt were very remote.
"I am glad Teddy is not here," muttered Phil with a half smile as he thought of his companion back on the "Marie" fast asleep."I wonder what he will think when he finds that I am missing? I hope they do not turn about and come back to look for me, for I hardly think they will be able to do that and make their next stand in time."Once more the lad began pulling himself up the rope.At last, to his great relief, his fingers closed over the stern rail of the river boat.Phil pulled himself up as if he were chinning the bar, though in this case he chinned it only once.
