Tom’s cheeks were still wet, and he was shaken every now and then by a sob. I hope that you who read this will not think him overly womanish, but will give a thought as to how broken he was with fatigue, and with the hardships through which he had passed. I can say that none of the crew of the cutter seemed to think lightly of him on account of it, and even Jack Baldwin’s voice was kind as he spoke.
I have always found that when men are strongly moved they are apt to be very unreasonable. So it was with Tom, for he felt very bitterly toward Jack at that moment, as though Jack were to blame for the trouble that had fallen upon them. However, nothing could be gained by staying tied as he was, so he presently said:
“You may untie me, if you like. The Lord knows that I don’t care much for my life just now, but there’s no use letting all these poor fellows drown like the rest.”
“Is that all the thanks I get for saving your life?” said Jack Baldwin. “Never mind; you’ll give me more thanks when your feet are safe on dry land. Untie him, bo’sen, for he’ll have to take his hand at the oars, along with the rest.”
The first thing that was done was to divide the boat’s crew into parties, each of which were to row by spells. Two of the men not rowing were to keep a lookout ahead, in case any vessel might heave in sight. The rest were to bail out the boat, for it was needful to keep bailing nearly all the time. In most cases it might have been safer to have tried to ride out the storm, and to have run the chance of being picked up by some passing vessel; but there were certain things to be considered in the case of those in the cutter. Their provisions and water were none too plenty, and there was little chance of being picked up, as so few vessels were sailing in those waters, excepting in fleets and under convoy.
A landsman would have been puzzled to know how a boat as small as the cutter could ever hope to live in a sea such as that was. It was, indeed, no small matter to run her safely, and Jack, who was at the tiller, had to keep his weather eye lifting, I can tell you.
One of the crew kept a constant lookout over the stern, to see when a wave with a crest was coming, and to warn the man at the tiller of it, for these were the seas that brought danger with them. At one time all hands would back water, so as to let such a one break in front of them. At another time they would pull all, so as to get out of the way until the force of the broken sea was spent. Sometimes one of these following seas would fling the cutter high aloft on its crest, carrying it along like an eggshell for a little distance, and giving them a dash as it went by that would set them all bailing for dear life.
Of course, it was needful to let each sea meet them fairly astern, for if the boat should broach too, she would be swamped or capsized as quick as a wink. As soon as one sea would pass them another would come. Perhaps it would be a cross sea, which, of course, was the kind that they dreaded the most of all. Sometimes the helm of the cutter could not bring her around quickly enough, or, maybe, just then her rudder would be clear of the water. Then Jack Baldwin would sing out in his mighty voice:
“Give way starboard! Back port!” or “Give way port! back starboard!”
The next moment, perhaps, another green sea would be seen rushing at them, and Jack would shout: