“Hold hard, men!” he cried. “Keep still-all of you!”
Out of the stillness of the night came the moan of a distant fog-horn. This was followed by a wild cheer from the men at the boat davits. At the same instant a dim, far-away light cut its way through the black void, burned for a moment, and disappeared like a dying star.
Another cheer went up. This time the watch on the foretop and the men astride the nose sent it whirling through the choke and damp with an added note of joy.
The Captain turned to the widow.
“That's her—that's the St. Louis! I've been hoping for her all day, and didn't give up until the fog shut in.”
“And we can stay here!”
“No—we haven't a moment to lose. Our fires are nearly out now. We've been in a sinking condition for forty-eight hours. We sprung a leak where we couldn't get at it, and our pumps are clogged.
“Stand aside, men! All ready, madam! No, you can't manage them both—give me the boy,—I'll bring him in the last boat.”