The Iron Boy's voice had assumed a tone of command. The men, recognizing that he was not alarmed, bent themselves to their oars and pulled quickly from their present dangerous position.
"Have we anything in the boat with which to bail it out?"
"No."
"Then we will sit in the water. I guess we can't be much wetter than we are."
The men grumbled.
"Lay to, till I find out how badly we are injured."
A brief examination of the side of the boat that had come in contact with the ship, showed that the gunwale had been smashed in, but the gash did not extend far enough down to place the little boat in great danger unless perhaps the sea rose high enough to wash over the side. As yet the lake was rolling lazily as is usually the case in a fog, for a breeze would quickly dispel the heaviest bank of fog and drive it away.
"We're all right," decided the young coxswain. "Pull around slowly."
Standing up in the stern of the life-boat with the tiller between his legs, Steve hailed the disabled ship.