Part 6 (2/2)

”I hear you've been distinguis.h.i.+ng yourself, Eric,” the veteran said, when the _Manzanita_ had cast off from the wharf.

”How do you mean, Father?”

”Rescues, and that sort of thing. It made me feel quite proud of my son.”

”There were a few,” the lad answered, with a quick flush of pride at his father's praise, ”but at that I don't think I got my full share. We had a fellow there we called the 'Eel.' n.o.body else had a chance to get anything when he was around.”

”Good swimmer, eh?”

”He was a wonder! Why, Father, he used to swim under water nearly all the time, just putting his nose out to breathe once in a while, and at the end of his side stroke he had a little wiggle that shot him ahead like greased lightning. Funniest stroke you ever saw!”

”Couldn't you pick it up?”

”Oh, I got the stroke all right,” Eric answered confidently, ”but I can't do it the way he did. And you should have seen him dive!”

”I always was glad you took kindly to that work,” said the inspector thoughtfully, ”because I believe it is pretty well handled, now that it's on an official basis. It certainly supplements the government's life-saving work very well. I've wondered, sometimes, whether it oughtn't to be taken hold of by the nation.”

”I don't think it's necessary, Father,” Eric replied. ”You see, if it was a government station, the regular crew would have to be on duty all the time. There's no need for that. There aren't any accidents there, except when the beach is crowded, and that's just for Sat.u.r.days and Sundays, mainly, and a couple of months in the summer.”

”That may all be true, but when an accident does occur, experts are needed in a hurry. Amateur work doesn't amount to much as a rule.”

”This isn't amateur!” protested the boy. ”Why, Father, do you know what a chap has to do before he can even enlist?”

”No,” the other replied. ”I never heard the requirements, or if I did, I've forgotten them. What are they?”

”A fellow who applies has got to show that he can swim at least a hundred yards in good style, and twenty yards of that must be in coat, trousers, and shoes. He's got to be able to dive and bring up something from the bottom, at a depth of ten feet. He's got to swim twenty yards carrying a person his own weight and show that he knows three different ways of carrying a drowning person in deep water. He's got to show that he can do at least three of the ways to 'break' death-grips made by a drowning person. And besides that, he's got to know all about first aid, especially resuscitation.”

”You mean that an applicant has to pa.s.s that test before entering the volunteers at all?”

”He sure has, and he's got to show that he can do it easily, too!”

”That's good and stiff,” said the old inspector. ”You can do all that, Eric, eh?”

The boy smiled.

”I've got a Proficiency Medal, Father,” he said, not a little proudly.

”What's that for?”

”That's the test to show you're really A 1. To get that medal you've got to swim under water for over thirty-five feet, you've got to know all the 'breaks,' and you've got to show a 'break' to be made by a third party if you're rescuing a rescuer who has got into the clutch of a drowning man in any way that he can't shake loose. Besides that, you've got to swim back-stroke sixty feet with the hands clear out of water, and sixty feet side, using one arm only. Then, just to show that it isn't exhibition stuff but the real goods in training for life-saving, you're made to swim sixty feet fully dressed and back forty feet, on the return carrying a man your own weight; dropping him, you have to start right off for another sixty feet out and forty feet back, this time carrying the man back by a different method.”

”It's real swimming!” exclaimed the veteran of the sea.

”You bet,” said Eric, ”and I'm not nearly through. There's another sixty-foot swim, and at the end of it you've got to dive at least twelve feet and bring up from the bottom a dead weight of not less than ten pounds and swim ten feet carrying that weight. I tell you, Father, that's quite a stunt! And then, besides all the swimming stuff, you've got to show that you're Johnny-on-the-spot in throwing a life-buoy, to say nothing of a barrel of tests in first aid, and in splicing and knot-tying of nearly every sort and shape. You don't get any chance to rest, either. All that swimming business has to be done on the same day.

It's a good test of endurance, all right.”

”And you pa.s.sed it, son?”

”I got ninety per cent.,” Eric answered. ”I thought I'd told you all about it. No, I guess it came off when you were on one of your trips. I don't go much on boasting, Father, but I really can swim.”

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