Joe went aft again, looking more disconsolate than ever. He had felt positive the enemy had not abandoned the vessel, and his disappointment was all the greater because this hope had been so strong.
When the gray light of day gave place to the darkness of night the anchors still held; but the steamer was laboring so much on account of the bow hawser that Bob decided it would be necessary to shift the strain, despite the danger attendant upon such an undertaking.
"All hands on deck!" he shouted at the door of the pilot-house, adding warningly, as the boys crept out, "keep a firm hold of the life-lines, lads, for he who falls overboard will stand a poor chance of saving himself."
To make the proposed change it was necessary to carry the cable astern after it was cast off the bitt, for all the slack had long since been let out, and rapidity of movement was as essential as strength.
"Wait till she buries her nose once more, an' then rush when she rises," Bob shouted as he threw off two or three turns of the rope.
Up, up the little craft rose as the great green waves swept beneath, and then when the hawser chucked her and the fall began, the signal was given:
"All hands with a will now!" the old sailor shouted; and in an instant the crew were rushing madly aft, the heavy cable nearly dragging them from their feet.
Bob had been correct as to the precise time when this maneuver should be executed; but he failed to give due consideration to the force the under-tow would exert in such shoal water. The hawser had but just been loosened from the bitt when the drag of the waters began. All hands clung with a force born of desperation; but their efforts were vain.
A crew of giants could not have resisted the strain upon the wet, iron-like rope, and Bob shouted wildly when he was almost at the taffrail:
"Let go! For your lives let go!"