“I hate to give it up now,” said Phil. “We must be going in, for the shore is getting nearer and nearer.”
Chap, who kept steadfastly on the windward side of the steamboat, and as near as possible to his friends, had been about to shout when the last puff of smoke came over them, that if they didn’t come off he would come on board and pitch them off, but suddenly changed his tune. He had fallen a little astern, and glancing shoreward, had pulled his boat to the other side of the Wistar, where he could see both the shore and her bow. Pulling back to the boys, he shouted,—
“Stick to her! Stick to her! She’s heading splendidly for Spatterdock Point! She’ll be aground in a minute!”
This encouragement came none too soon. The air was getting decidedly hot around the boys, and the sides of the saloon cabin, which rose before them and prevented their seeing the fire, were beginning to smoke. This was not certainly a sign of immediate danger, for the cabin was probably filled with smoke, which was escaping from the cracks around the windows, which, fortunately, were all closed.
Phœnix had just been on the point of proposing that they should get out of this thing as quickly as they could, when Chap’s words came, and he forbore.
The eyes of the boys smarted with smoke and heat, and their backs and legs began to ache with the great strain of holding that swashing rudder. If the boat had been going faster through the water they could not have done it.
But their hearts held out, and if they were nearing the shore they would not give out just yet.
Directly, there was a gentle jar, which ran from the bow to the stern, and which the boys distinctly felt beneath their feet.
“The bow has touched!” shouted Phil. “Now put the rudder round and let the wind blow her stern in shore.”
With renewed vigor the boys pushed the end of the tiller to the other side of the deck, and, as Phil had said, the wind slowly blew the stern of the boat shoreward.