In a few moments Ben shouted, “There’s folks there, four or six, I can’t tell which. I see one move his arm a little.”
“What are we going to do?” asked Captain Rhines. “I thought there would be some one able to take a line and make it fast, and then we might tow them clear of the breakers and into some lee, where we could get them off; but if there’s nobody to take a line, we’ve got to carry one ourselves.”
“Let the raft go by us,” said Ben, “and follow it up astern with the schooner. I’ll take a line in the canoe.”
“I’ll go with you,” said Joe; but Charlie insisted upon sharing the peril with his father. They took in all but the foresail, reefed to the smallest possible dimensions, leaving only a little of the peak, as it was difficult to make the schooner go slow enough to keep from running on to the raft and knocking her to pieces; but by luffing into the wind they managed to keep her clear till Ben and Charlie got into the canoe, and with a small line reached the raft, to which was made fast a larger one, which they hauled to them and secured.
There was no such thing as returning against that sea; they must take their chance with those they came to save. If the rope parted, or the little vessel failed to tow her charge clear of the surf, they were lost. During the interval occupied in fastening to the raft, it had made fearful progress towards the rocks, that could now be plainly seen ahead, the sea breaking on them in sheets of foam. Never was the clear judgment and resolute nature of Captain Rhines put to a severer test than now. He must carry sail enough to drive the Perseverance through the water with sufficient speed to clear the rocks. On the other hand, there was danger, if he carried too much sail, of either parting the rope, in which case Ben and Charlie, with those they went to save, would perish, or of taking the masts out of the schooner; and also danger of the seas boarding her over the stern.
It was most fortunate for the crew of the schooner, that when they grappled to the raft they were a long distance off, and well over to the edge of the breakers, consequently had to work the raft but very little to windward. Every time the little vessel rose on one of those tremendous seas, when the raft was perhaps in the hollow of another, she quivered and trembled, and it seemed as if she must be crushed bodily down beneath the sea.
“Isaac,” said the captain, who had one hand on the rope, “I think this will bear more strain. Unless we go ahead a little faster, we shall hardly clear that ragged point making out to the leeward.”
“I’m afraid, Benjamin, it will take the mast out of her.”
“So am I, but we must risk it. There’s no other way. It’s sartain death to go into that surf.”
There was one other way. A stroke of the axe upon the “taut” rope, and the schooner, freed from her encumbrance, would have gone off like a bird from the ragged reef and boiling surf, leaving their comrades to perish; but no such thought could find lodgment in the bosoms of the men on board the Perseverance.