He made sleeping a matter of business from the time the first watch was begun until summoned to do his share of the work, and then, in order to drive the remnants of slumber from his eyelids, went out on to the beach for a stroll.
After walking a couple of miles as a means of preparing for the more arduous labor, he returned to the yacht and clambered on board.
The hawsers were stretched taut as bars of iron, and there was every reason to believe the strain upon the anchors was beginning to tell.
Contrary to his expectation the groaning was not heard, probably because the craft had been raised partially out of the sandy bed; but as he stood there watching the water creep up inch by inch upon the white sand, he fancied there was a certain motion to the craft.
“The anchors are pullin’ her once more,” he said to himself. “I wish it might be possible to get her off before the boys awaken. I don’t believe she’s now on so very firm, and with the hawsers dragging dead astern a little additional weight would take her off.”
The cable connected with the largest anchor was yet made fast to the capstan, and as the yacht quivered again, Ned exerted all his strength to take another turn of the drum.
At first this was impossible, but as the hawsers were slackened he succeeded, and was rewarded by feeling that she continued to move slightly.
“It’s now or not until to-morrow!” he said after making certain the water was nearly at its proper height, and shutting his teeth tightly, he gave way on the capstan-bar with every ounce of weight and strength it was possible for him to exert.
Just for an instant he fancied he had made some mistake as to the holding power of the craft, and then the capstan began to revolve as if the cable had suddenly been unloosened.
There was no necessity to look over the side, for Ned could see by the objects ashore that the little steamer was moving rapidly through the water, and a second later there was a slight dip as the bow slipped from the bank.