“Most thrilling thing I ever saw!” exclaimed Mr. Holton, as he breathlessly directed his gaze at the puny boats, which wallowed heavily and threatened to be swamped at every moment.
On and on went the rescue boats, their occupants bailing furiously. Now and then they threatened to capsize but always righted themselves.
In what seemed to be a long period of suspense to the spectators, the Empire’s crew reached the fishing schooner, which was now far under water.
One by one the fishermen climbed into the lifeboats, although it was necessary to give sharp commands to prevent disorder.
When the last of the men from the doomed boat stepped into the lifeboats, the officer in charge gave the word, and they started back to the Empire.
The return trip threatened to be more perilous, for the boats were very low in the water with the added load. Hurriedly the oarsmen set to work, so that they might be a good distance from the schooner when it sank, for a whirlpool would be created, meaning certain disaster to all around it.
Once a giant wave passed over the little boats and they disappeared from view, amid gasps from the spectators. But the danger was soon over, and the lifeboats emerged unharmed, the crewmen bailing rapidly.
They were barely at the Empire’s side when the schooner sank. With a last look at the scene of disaster, the fishermen boarded the ship. They were water-soaked and shivering with cold, but were too glad that they had been saved from the hungry depths of the sea to make any complaints.
“They’re Portuguese,” observed Professor Bigelow, as the fishermen came nearer.