As for Tom, the sand was reaching up under his arm-pits.

The young chief engineer had had the presence of mind to keep his arms free, but soon they too must be swallowed up.
"Good throw--whoever sent it!" cheered Tom Reade, as a final cast--Harry's--sent a line within six inches of his face.
Tom could not see those back at the platform, for his back was turned to the eastward, and he could no longer swing his body about.
"Get it under your arms-quick, Tom, or you're done for, too!" screamed Harry.
"Keep cool, old chap!" came back the unconcerned answer.

"It isn't half bad out here.

The sand feels really cool about one's body." "This is no time for nonsense!" ordered Hazelton hoarsely.

"Have you the line fast ?" "Yes!" nodded Reade.