"The skipper of a big tug in Houghton heard about it, jest as he was goin' to bed. He come racin' down to the wharf an' rousted out the crew. His engineer was still on board an' they got steam up like winkin'. The gale was blowin' even worse up our way, but the old tug snorted into it jest the same. Out into the dark an' the snow an' the storm she snubbed along, tootin' her whistle like as if it were the Day of Jedgment. An' if it had been," continued the old man in parenthesis, "no one would've known it in that storm!"
"When did you see the tug?" queried the boy.
"Couldn't see nothin'," was the answer, "we jest heard that ol' whistle toot. One o' the men guessed it was the big tug all right an' wondered if she was ashore somewheres with a tow. But, fust thing we know, she come up out o' the muck o' snow an' sleet an' the ol' skipper bellered to us through a speakin'-trumpet that he was come to take us to a wreck. We snaked the gear on to that tug in about half no time, takin' the big surf-boat an' all the apparatus. The tug was a blowin' off steam, like as if she was connected to a volcaner. I tell you there must have been some fire under them boilers. An' when we started—I'm an old hand, boy, but I'm tellin' ye that I never thought to see Houghton. The ol' skipper sent that tug through at racin' speed like as if it was a moonlight summer night an' he had all the sea-room in a couple of oceans.
"'Air ye goin' to stop at Houghton?' I asks him, sort o' sarcastic, 'or are ye gittin' up speed enough to run on a mile or two after ye hit the shore?'
"'Don't ye worry,' he said, with a short laugh, 'ye c'n tie my ears an' eyes up doorin' a hurricane, 'n' I can smell my way to port!'
"An' I'm tellin' ye he did. Without nary a light nor nothin' to guide him—for the snow was worse 'n any fog—he went full speed ahead. An' when he tinkled that little telegraph bell to the engine room, I was wonderin' if he was within ten miles o' the place. But as that craft slowed down, ye can b'lieve me or not 's you like, she glided up to her own pier like as if it was a ferry-boat in a dead calm.
"'I've got to hand it to you, Cap'n,' I says to him, 'I wouldn't ha' believed it unless I seen it.'
"'That's my end,' say the cap'n, 'I know my work, same's you know yours. I'm bettin' my pile on you fellers makin' good 'most any ol' time.' Made me feel good, all right."
"It sure does make a difference," put in Eric, "when you know that people have confidence in you."
"Right you are, boy," said the old keeper, and continued his story. "That pier was jest a mass o' folks, thick as they c'd stand. An' when they saw the tug with us on board, they cheered, 'n' cheered, 'n' cheered. There was a dozen to grab the lines 'n' make 'em fast, 'n' before she was even tied up, a mob grabbed our boat an' apparatus an' rushed it to the railroad.