With all his might Henry shouted, but he got no response. He was fast becoming chilled, for the water was very cold. His strength was ebbing, and the swirling eddies sucked him toward the pier. Once, indeed, he was drawn entirely under the pier, and the choppy water knocked him roughly against the pilings. His head banged hard against a great spile, and for a moment Henry almost lost consciousness. Then he recovered his full senses and set himself to fight for his life. His strength was going fast, and he knew it. Yet he did not allow himself to become panic-stricken. He took a grip on himself, turned away from the pier, and struck out with all his remaining strength. Whatever happened, he would get away from those deadly pilings. The thought of dying under the pier, among those slimy spiles, chilled him worse than did the cold water.
Incessantly the waves dashed in Henry’s face, blinding him. But he kept his mouth shut and quickly learned to breathe guardedly, so he swallowed little more water. Before him he could dimly distinguish the great black bulk of an anchored ship. Even at the risk of being swept seaward, he decided that he would try to swim to it.
Had it not been for his wet clothing and his shoes, which felt like lead, Henry might have been able to make it. But his garments held him