"Pawl her!" cried the bosun.
The tugboat now backed fussily up and took the hawser; the anchor was hove up to the cat-head, and the fish-tackle hooked on.
Then, whilst the anchor was hove in-board, a hand was sent to the wheel, and with a screech from her whistle the tug went ahead.
With a snort she began to move: the hawser sprang from her eddying wake, dripping and snaking as it took the strain; a ripple appeared round the Higgins' cutwater, and her bowsprit slowly swung round until it headed for the Golden Gate.
The mate went aft, and the bosun called out:
"That'll do, men; get your breakfast. You'll be turned to in half-an-hour."
CHAPTER II
"THE RULE OF THE BELAYING-PIN"
A shock-headed and tattered ragamuffin of a ship's boy crept off to the galley, and returned with a steaming kid of wet hash.