"Such grit! What a pity!"
By this time the jackies had reached the platform, but they could be of no assistance to their shipmate. Dan was hanging twenty feet out from where they were.
He seemed to have lost his bearings, and, for the moment, appeared not to realize where he was. Little by little his power of reasoning returned to him, while all hands were watching him with breathless interest. The stay to which he was clinging extended forward to the foremast, running from the middle of the mainmast to the middle of the foremast.
Hand over hand the plucky lad began moving along the rope brace. It was slow progress at best. At last he was directly over the huge funnels. Hot, suffocating smoke, belching from the funnels, hid him from the view of those on deck. The smoke and coal gas well-nigh strangled the boy, but he kept on. A cheer reached his ears as he at last emerged from the cloud of black smoke.
"Keep it up, Dynamite! Keep it up!" howled a dozen voices.
"Steady now! Hold to your course. You're on the last lap!"
"Come on, Dan!" howled Sam Hickey, dancing about on his insecure foothold, almost beside himself with excitement.
On the other hand, at that moment, Dan Davis was perhaps the least excited of all that ship's company. He was in full command of himself, though his arms ached and he had to exert great self-control to keep from letting go. Now and then he would pause, hanging by one hand to rest the other arm, then he would go on again, moving more rapidly than before.
"Bridge, there!" roared Sam.
"Aye, aye."