[CHAPTER IX]
A FEAT OF SEAMANSHIP
“Ease her up a bit, boys,” Mac shouted. “Steady an’ strong, an’ take yer time.”
Then the steersman and engineer began a “Yeo ho.” And it was well he did. The tired lads were in no condition to duplicate their sprint seaward. But, taking up the slow, long stroke, they began to get their second wind. There were no means of knowing whether the Escambia was having any effect on the steamer. But the hawser was taut, the oars rose and fell to Mac’s chanty of the sea, and the busy little engine kept the propeller churning ceaselessly.
“Mac,” called Tom Allen, at last, “is she comin’?”
“How kin I tell,” shouted Mac. “But Captain Joe sure ain’t waved any light fur us to stand by. Steady, boys, take yer time.”
Perhaps a quarter of an hour went by. With the lessening of their speed, the four oarsmen had fallen into a swinging sweep that permitted talk. It was agreed that it must be after eleven o’clock.
“We’ll save her or lose her by midnight,” suggested Tom. “An’, whatever happens, I ain’t a goin’ to shut an eye till I’ve had a hot suppah an’ get dried out befoah a rousin’ fiah.”
“Bet yer life,” exclaimed Hal. “If I ever get warm again, don’t bother about callin’ me in the mornin’.”
“Ah reckon you all’s gwine be busy ’nough in de mornin’,” interrupted Jerry. “Allowin’ ef we git dis steamer in de bay who gwine to boss gittin’ her out agin?”