“Then let go.”
At a tap from Lindley's hammer, the great anchor plunged down, and the flaked out cable roared as it flew through the hawse-pipes, drowning the loud “Hurrah” of the men on board.
“What is it, Lindley?” cried Lester, “ten fathoms?”
“Twelve, sir.”
“Give her another twenty-five. It's good holding ground and there is plenty of room for her to swing. Lindley!”
“Yes, sir.”
“We have had a bit of good luck, eh?”
“Yes, sir. That is because Mrs. Lester is on the tug. She brings us good luck.”
Lester laughed and turned to his wife. “Do you hear that, Lucy?”
She was gazing intently over to the westward, but turned to him the moment he spoke.