Never before had the Idlewild bore so excited a party as Captain Mack and his men were at that moment, and never had she carried a more orderly one. There was not the slightest confusion among them. Those who understood Egan’s hurried orders obeyed them, and those who did not, kept out of the way. When they saw that the deserters were making preparations to board the wreck, their admiration found vent in lusty and long-continued cheers.
“Who are those fellows in the dory?” Egan asked of Don, who had the glass. “They have good pluck, I must say.”
“One of them is Enoch Williams, and the other is——”
Don was so utterly amazed by the discovery he had made, that he could go no further. He wiped both ends of the glass with his handkerchief to make sure that there was nothing on them to obscure his vision, and then he looked again.
“The other is Lester Brigham,” said he.
His companions could hardly believe it. First one and then another took the glass, and every one who gazed through it, gave utterance to some expression of astonishment.
“I’ll never again be in such haste to pass judgment upon a fellow,” said Egan, after he had satisfied himself that Enoch’s companion was none other than the boy who had faltered when his courage was first tested. “I have been badly mistaken in both those boys. You are going to capture the deserters, Mack, but Enoch and Lester will go back to Bridgeport with a bigger feather in their caps than you will.”
Captain Mack did not feel at all envious of them on that account. He and the rest watched all their movements with the keenest solicitude, and cheered wildly every time one of the sloop’s crew was released from his lashings and put into the dory. When that big wave came and washed Enoch overboard, their hearts seemed to stop beating, and every boy anxiously asked his neighbor whether or not Enoch could swim well enough to keep himself afloat until they could reach him. Their fears on that score were speedily set at rest and their astonishment was greatly increased when Egan, who held the glass, said that he could swim like a cork, that he held a little child in his arms, and that he knew enough to get beyond the influence of the whirlpool made by the wreck which was now going to the bottom.
“He’s a hero!” cried Egan, after he had shouted himself hoarse. “Look out for that spar, Burgess! Get handspikes, some of you, and stand by to push her off!”
But the handspikes were not needed. Being skilfully handled the Idlewild came up into the wind within easy reach of the spar, but never touching it, and hung there barely a moment—just long enough to give the eager boys who were stationed along the weather-rail, time to seize the swimmer and haul him aboard. He was none the worse for his ducking, while his burden lay so white and motionless in his arms that everybody thought he was dead; but he was only badly frightened, and utterly bewildered by the strange and unaccountable things that were going on around him.