The oars dipped deep, and hardy muscles strained back of them.
Slowly but surely the boat gained against all the fury of the onrushing tide, and foot by foot they began to leave the shore.
Paul was shouting, swinging his hat, as Darry could see while he tugged at his task.
Once fully launched upon the swelling bosom of the sea, the progress of the surfboat was more rapid, though every yard had to be won by the most arduous of labor, the men straining like galley slaves under the lash; but in this case it was a sense of duty rather than the whip of the tyrant that urged them on.
No man but the helmsman saw anything of the steamer that was fast upon the cruel jaws of the reef, for it was against orders for anyone to turn his head.
Such an incautious movement might throw him out of balance in the swing of the stroke and bring about disaster, or at least temporarily disarrange their regular advance; they had to trust everything to the wisdom and experience of the man who hung on to the long steering oar, and blindly obey his shouted instructions.
Many times had he gone forth upon just such a hazard, and thus far his sagacity had proven equal to the task.
They began to hear human voices shrieking through the storm.
That meant they were drawing close under the lee of the steamer, and that those on board must have sighted them, and were consequently filled with new hope.
Above all else came the awful pounding of the sea upon the side of the doomed steamer.