“And the sick captain?” suggested Bob. “Looks to me as if we won’t have much chance to get up to camp—”
“She’s a comin’ boys,” exclaimed Mac suddenly. “She’s sure a comin’. We’re a gettin’ out o’ the lee of her. Yeo ho, yeo ho.”
If that was an indication, the work of the Escambia was telling. So far, the steamer had been drifting in the trough of the waves parallel with the beach. The life boat, working to starboard, had been more or less protected by the steamer from the sweep of wind and water. As Mac could not hold the life boat in one position, it was impossible to tell from the fire ashore or Captain Joe’s lantern whether the steamer was altering her position. But, when Mac discovered that the Escambia was no longer in the lee of the helpless vessel, it was an indication that her bow was at last coming about shoreward.
“Hit her up, Kids,” whispered Hal. “Let’s show what we kin do.”
“Hey there, none o’ that,” yelled Mac. “Yer doin’ good ’nough. Stick to the stroke. Yeo ho, yeo ho.”
As the boys fell back into their stride, the Escambia came further out from the steamer’s protection, and once more the life boat was climbing the waves.
“Dat’s it,” yelled Jerry. “We sho’ got ’er. We’s got her a comin’. She’s nigh head on now. Mac,” he called anxiously, “who gwine bring dem jibs about?”
It was certain that the Escambia could not force the drifting hulk up into the gale. If the headway so far obtained was sufficient to bring the vessel on to a starboard tack, the jibs would have to come over.
“He wants us,” replied Mac. “Captain Joe’s a callin’. Ship them oars, Kids, an’ give us a hand on this line.”
Any change was welcome. A few minutes later, the Escambia had been drawn up to the steamer’s side, and, although the little boat pounded against the iron plates with terrorizing crashes, Jerry and Mac clambered up the cable like monkeys.