One adventurous bather, however, remained in the water.

I had anxiously watched him swim round the pier-head and back, ready--longing--to see him cast his hands above his head and hang out other signals of distress.

But it seemed I was again to be disappointed.

He came in swimming easily, and mightily pleased with himself and his performance.
He was about twenty yards off his machine and I was beginning to give him up, when to my delight I saw his hands go up and his head go down, and heard what I fondly hoped was a yell of despair.
In a moment--two moments, I should say, for one of my boots was not quite enough unlaced--I was floundering in the water in my flannel shirt and trousers, striking out wildly for the spot where he had disappeared.
I had gathered from the authorities I had consulted that heroes, under these circumstances, got over distances in a shorter time than it takes to record it.

This was not my experience.