The trawls were set as usual the following evening, for in spite of the fog the work of fishing was continued with considerable regularity, and the next morning dory No. 6 went out with the others in quest of its fare. It was customary in thick weather, while the dories were absent, to keep the fog-horn constantly sounding on board the schooner, so that they might be enabled to find her again.
On this occasion there was such a heavy sea running that unusual care was necessary in the management of the dory, and its crew were frequently obliged to swing her head to it to prevent her from capsizing. After considerable difficulty they discovered their buoy, and began to haul the trawl. In spite of the violent pitching of the boat they were conducting this operation successfully, and had nearly completed their task when, unnoticed by them, as their backs were turned to it, a larger wave than usual came rushing towards them.
It seemed to spring at the deeply laden dory, and lifted it so suddenly that Wolfe, who was leaning over the gunwale, was pitched head-foremost into the water. At the same instant Breeze, who had been standing up, was thrown violently backward against the opposite side of the boat, which was probably all that saved it from upsetting. As it was, she shipped a quantity of water, and this, in addition to the load of fish, sank her far below the limit of safety.
Her head, which had only been held to the wind by the trawl, now swung off, and as Wolfe rose to the surface and clutched the stern becket she had turned completely around, and was beginning to drift.
Quickly recovering himself, Breeze went to his companion’s assistance, and was endeavoring to help him into the boat, when Wolfe gave a sharp cry of pain, exclaiming,
“I’m caught in the trawl! One of the hooks is in my leg! It’s dragging me down! Oh, Breeze, help me!”
For an instant Breeze was horror-stricken; but his quick wit enabled him to understand the situation at once, and also suggested a remedy for it. Wolfe now formed the connecting link between the dory and the trawl, which alone prevented it from drifting off before the wind. The strain on his arms was so great, and the pain from the hook in his leg was so intense, that he could not keep his hold on the becket more than a minute longer. When he should once let go he would instantly be dragged down beneath the dark waters.
While these thoughts were flashing through his mind Breeze had picked up the buoy-line, cut it free from its keg, and passing the end under Wolfe’s arms and around his body, had made it fast to the after-thwart. He thus effectually fastened his companion to the dory, and relieved, in a measure, the strain on his arms.
He next threw off his oil suit, his heavy outer clothes, and his boots. Then, standing erect, with his sharp sheath-knife held between his teeth, he sprang overboard and disappeared, head-foremost, beneath the water, much as his dorymate had done a few minutes before. In another moment the trawl-line holding Wolfe was cut, and the terrible strain upon his leg was instantly relieved.
If Breeze had not been the splendid swimmer that he was, and brought up from his earliest boyhood to feel almost as much at home in the water as on land, he could not possibly have accomplished this feat. Neither would he have been able to regain the dory, which, taking a send of the sea, was at some distance from him when he again rose to the surface. He only reached it after a hard swim, and was breathless with his exertions by the time he had managed to clamber in over the bow.