Once, twice, three times the men leaped against the stout bars without making any perceptible change in the brig's position, and Joe began to fancy it would have been as well if he had not humbled himself by making a trade with the strangers.
"Buckle down to it once more," Bob shouted. "It lacked almost an hour of bein' high water when she struck, an' there can't be so very much sand under her bow. Break down once more!"
No one hung back. The red-nosed man appeared to have the strength of a giant, and as he hove at the handles it seemed as if the wood or iron must surely give way under the enormous strain.
"Grind her down!" he yelled, and when one more determined effort had been made there was a decided movement. The bars were started fully a quarter of a turn, and Bob shouted:
"Now's the time, my hearties! Heave around once, an' we're clear of this blessed key!"
Then every man hove down on the bars as the Mexican held turn, and inch by inch the heavy hawser came inboard until the winch revolved readily as the Bonita glided out into deeper water, until she lay clear of the shoal, swinging to the grip of the cable over her stern.
"Hurrah!" Bob shouted, and the others joined in the cheers, causing the boys to come from the galley to learn the reason for such an uproar.
"It's a matter of gettin' that anchor home, an' then when the wind springs up ag'in we can leave this sand-heap behind us," the red-nosed man said in a tone of satisfaction, as he wiped the perspiration from his face before following the example of the others, who had flung themselves at full length in the shadow of the forecastle.
"What about the Sea Bird, Bob?" Joe asked when he had regained his breath sufficiently to talk. "I hate to leave the little craft to the mercy of wind and wave."
"Why don't you swing this hawser right aboard of her?" the red-nosed man proposed. "The owners may think she's worth comin' after, an' she'll lay here comfortable enough, unless it blows a full gale from the east."