"Stand by!" they heard the call from
the forward end of her. Looking up, they could see the shadow against
the pilot-house light. "By!" came the echo, and the man astern stepped
on to her open quarter and balanced himself to heave.
A note in that answering voice caught Bowen's ear. "Say, Nelson, that's
not one of the tug's regular crew!"
"I don't know. I don't t'ink, but he ban a foolish man," replied
Nelson--"he should lash himself."
"Stand by with the line!" came again.
"By!" echoed tensely from astern.
"Ready!"
"All ready!"
"When she lifts! Now--w--"
From the top of a sea the line came whistling down to the light-ship
rail. "I'll take it," called Bowen, and, loosing his hold of the stay,
he reached out and caught the flying line to his breast. "A good throw,"
he muttered, and hauled it in.
The hawser followed the heaving line, and Nelson and Bowen, with
life-lines about them, bent the stubborn end of it around the windlass.
It was heavy work, even for two men, on the tumbling, slippery deck,
and, that done, they turned, anxiously, to see how the man in the stern
of the tug was making out. He was there, back to, bending the thick
stubborn bight about the towing bitts with slow, heavy motions. They saw
one great sea break over him; and another: but when the seas were past
there he was still working away.
"Won't he never mak' him fast?" wailed Nelson.
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