He sat down to rest a minute, and looked about for the dory. He made her out indistinctly, but she seemed a long distance off, and as the breeze was freshening he did not know whether she could overtake the sloop. By setting some canvas he could pick her up, and the foresail would not be hard to hoist; but the Cetacea would not sail to windward with the heavy cable hanging from her bows. Jimmy remembered that there was a good length of it below; indeed, there might be scope enough to allow him to drop several fathoms on the bottom. The weight of this would act as a drag, and might, perhaps, bring her up. It depended on the depth of water.
He let the chain run, and watched it anxiously as it rattled out of the pipe. For a time it showed no sign of stopping, and then he felt a thrill as the harsh clanking slackened. The lower end had found bottom; but the vessel would soon lift a fathom or two, and he could not tell whether she would stop. The links ran slowly forward in a slanting line, and Jimmy saw by the absence of any splashing at the bows that she was still adrift. Then the rattle of the cable recommenced, which showed at least that there was more below, and she slowly stopped. In a few moments he felt her tug and strain, and white ripples broke angrily against the planking. She had either stopped or was drifting very slowly. Standing up on the cabin top, he waved his jacket that his comrades in the dory might see he was on board, and then went below out of the bitter wind. He could do no more.
It was some time later when the dory struck the side, and Moran clambered on board and entered the cabin. Jimmy could not see his face, but his gruff voice had an unusual tone.
“That was a mighty good swim, partner,” he said. “I was scared you wouldn’t make it.”
“So was I,” smiled Jimmy. “I was too dead beat to heave the cable when I got on board.”
“Of course,” Moran agreed sympathetically. “Now you lie off and leave things to us.”
Then Bethune came down and let his hand rest for a moment on Jimmy’s shoulder.
“Thanks, old man! Neither Hank nor I could have reached her.”
They were none of them sentimentalists, and Jimmy felt that enough had been said.
“I’m a bit worried about my thick jacket and sea-boots,” he replied. “You see, I’ll need them.”