Grace was exhausted and panting violently, but she was not insensible. She was even able to sit up; and when the boat had backed clear of the rocks, she was placed on the velvet cushions at the stern. In another moment the second boat dashed alongside, and Colonel Montague leaped into the stern-sheets, and folded his daughter in his arms. He wiped the salt water from her face, and did all he could to improve her situation.
"Pull for the yacht!" said he, nervously.
All this time Bobtail had been clinging to the bow of the barge, recovering his breath. The sailor assisted him into the boat, and he dropped down into the fore-sheets, breathing heavily from exhaustion. The stroke-oarsman picked up his oar, and the two men pulled with all their might for the yacht, while the other boat went around to the landing-place on Blank Island to bring off the party there.
"How do you feel, Grace?" asked Colonel Montague, as he laid his daughter's head upon his breast.
"Better, father," she replied, faintly. "I'm cold."
"Give way, lively, my lads," added the colonel, to whom minutes seemed like hours.
When the barge came alongside the accommodation-steps, Colonel Montague bore Grace in his arms to the deck of the Penobscot.
"Let me sit down here in the sun, father," said she.
"But you must remove your wet clothes."
"Not yet. Let me rest a few moments. I shall be all well in a little while."