At eleven thirty-five came the message, “We are firing rockets now.”
At midnight the Wilmington sent her position. In all her hours of struggle she had won but pitifully few miles toward safety. When Henry had copied down this message, he laid aside the headphones and surrendered his place to Jimmy. He had worked two hours overtime, but no one in the radio shack had given a thought to time. They were tense with anxiety about the Wilmington. Now Henry took his message to the captain. Mr. Sharp told him he had better get some sleep, but sleep was impossible. Every minute the wind was coming stronger, and the sea was getting up. The thought of those wretched sailors, waiting helplessly for the Iroquois, their vessel likely to sink at any moment, moved Henry powerfully. Never could he forget the sight of those poor fellows from the Iroquois that he had seen struggle so hard for their lives in the sea off Cape Cod. The men of the Wilmington might at any moment be in the same situation. With such thoughts surging through his excited brain he could not sleep, so he returned to the radio shack.
At half-past three in the morning a rocket was seen. Long before this the Iroquois had broken out her searchlight, shooting a great finger of light through the darkness ahead, then pointing the beam upward toward the heavens, so that it could be seen afar. The cutter rushed on, crew and commander heartened by the streaks of fire that now shot heavenward at intervals in the darkness ahead. By four o’clock the Wilmington herself could be seen plainly, and a little while later the Iroquois lay close alongside, her searchlight playing on the injured ship.
The freighter’s prow was bent, and she had settled a little forward, but otherwise she appeared to be in good condition. On the far side of her was a gaping hole in her nose that was not visible from the Iroquois. She looked as though she were still good for a struggle.
But the crew of the cutter had not long to speculate about the condition of the disabled ship. Down from her davits dropped the huge lifeboat full of men. A moment it paused alongside, while the sailors who had manned the falls slid down them into the boat. Then the little craft was shoved clear of the crippled ship and pulled over to the Iroquois. Up the side of the cutter the frightened sailors scrambled like terrified sheep. Plainly they were foreigners. And the commander of the Iroquois opened his eyes wide, when he noted that many of them were Englishmen. He was not surprised that the others were panic-stricken.
The captain of the Wilmington was the last man to come aboard. His expression was pitiful. “I could have saved my ship,” he cried, “if it had not been for this cowardly crew. The forward hold is full of water, but the bulkhead is holding well. We could have made Halifax in a few hours.”
The executive officer was standing by. “Captain Hardwick,” he said, “will you allow me to take a volunteer crew and work the Wilmington into Halifax? It’s a crime to abandon a ship like that.”
“You may try it, Mr. Harris, if you wish.”
The executive officer turned and faced the crew of the Iroquois, who were gathered forward of the ladder. “How many of you are willing to help me work the Wilmington into Halifax?” he cried.
The crew sprang forward as one man. The commander of the Wilmington strode over to Mr. Harris. “I’m going back with you,” he said. Half a dozen of the Englishmen followed. “We’re with you, Captain,” they said.