"'We jest are goin' to make it,' says I, 'if we have to swim!'
"Then one o' those fisher chaps had a good idee. While we was a-fixin' up the rudder an' gittin' ready for another trip, the rest o' the crowd chops the ice off'n the boat, 'n' off'n the oars. Then this fisher chap I was a tellin' about, he comes back with a can of tallow an' smears that thick all over the boat an' the oars an' our slickers an' near everything that he c'd find to put a bit o' tallow on."
"What was that for?" queried Eric.
"So as the water'd run off, o' course," the old man answered. "It worked, too. In about twenty minutes we was off again, in the mush-ice, jest as afore. We hadn't had no chance to get warm, an' our clothes was wet an' friz. I thought sure some o' the men would be frost-bit. But I guess we was all too tough.
"The second trip started jest the same. As soon as we got out o' the ice a breaker come along 'n' hove that boat 'way up, 'n' then chucked it back on the ice, smashin' the new rudder same's the old one.
"I wa'n't goin' to have no monkey-business with rudders any more, 'n' I yelled to Brown, he was the cox'n,
"'Take 'n oar, Bill!'
"He grabs a spare oar 'n' does all he knows how to steer with that. Again we druv our oars into it an' got out o' the ice, 'n' again it threw us back. We did that five times 'n' then one of the fellers got hurt, when his oar struck a chunk of ice, 'n' we went ashore again. I reckon we'd been at it nigh four hours, then."
"I suppose you hadn't any trouble finding a volunteer?" the boy said.
"We could ha' got nigh every man on the beach. But we took one o' the fishermen who had gone out on his own hook afore. If we was goin' to do any savin' it was on'y fair he should have a share o' the credit. An' then, any chap who was willin' to resk his life in a bit of a yawl in that weather was worth puttin' in a boat.