Two of the ladies held the agonized mother, to prevent her from leaping over the cliff. The gentlemen were shouting to the men in the boat to hasten their speed, for there was nothing else they could do. Bobtail saw the boat, and heard the rapid thumps of the oars in the rowlocks. The sight and the sound inspired him with new courage. He had ceased to struggle any more than was necessary to keep his distance from the rock.
"Hold on a few seconds more," shouted one of the gentlemen on the rock above.
Bobtail tried to speak, but he could not, though he felt that for a short time longer he was master of the situation.
"Way enough!" said one of the men in the boat. "Toss him an oar, Bill."
The stroke oarsman threw one of his oars to Bobtail, who grasped it, and supported himself with it.
"Back her," said the man in the bow, as he reached forward, and seized one of Miss Grace's arms, while the other man kept the boat in position with his oars.
The stout sailor lifted the young lady into the boat, and Bobtail laid hold of the bow with his released hand. A shout of joy rose from the rock when Grace was safely drawn into the boat.
"Back her!" gasped Little Bobtail, still clinging to the bow with one hand, while he held the oar with the other.