“Can you tell me anything about the Lycoming or the Empress?” demanded Roy.
“Both safe in Galveston,” said the tug’s skipper. “They are pretty badly battered up, but still sound. They had an awful fight to make it. The Empress broke her rudder and the Lycoming took her in tow. Nobody but John Lansford could have done it. I tell you he’s a wonder—heart like a woman’s—courage like a grizzly—rough as barnacles on a ship’s bottom. The worst storm that ever blew—and I guess this was it—couldn’t make him desert a ship in trouble. He was darn near to port, he was, and didn’t he turn back into the hurricane and take the Empress in tow. Saved her, too. Put an oil slick down, got lines aboard of her, and had her turn her engines just enough to give her headway. His lines would have parted in a minute if he’d had to pull her whole weight. Oh! He’s a wonder all right. It was a great rescue—great!”
“Was—was anybody lost?” asked Roy, hesitating.
“Small boat’s crew, including the third mate and the wireless man.”
“And nothing has been heard from them?”
“Absolutely nothing.”
“I am the wireless man,” said Roy quietly.
“The deuce you are!” exclaimed the Rotarian’s captain. “The deuce you are! Put her there,” and he shook Roy’s hand warmly for a full minute. “I’m mighty glad you pulled through. They say you did great work.”
Roy’s heart leaped with joy. At last recognition had come to him. His captain had changed his mind about him. But to the tug’s captain he said simply, “I’m glad to hear about the two steamers. I wish we could get as good news of the third mate and the others in the life-boat.”
“Aren’t they here with you?”