"Where she can keep afloat we can go," decided the Sub. "So here goes."
The steamboat approached cautiously, easing down as each successive comber swept towards her. Already there was a foot of water in the engine-room, while, in spite of the most skilful handling, the propeller was racing madly as the boat dipped her nose and threw her stern clear of the waves.
It was, indeed, almost miraculous that the Sunderbund's life-boat had so far weathered the storm. As it was, green seas were breaking over her, necessitating prompt, vigorous, and constant baling on the part of her passengers and crew. Many of the former, too, were down with sea-sickness of the worst form, and only lay inertly on the bottom-boards, too ill to take further interest in the proceedings.
At length the steamboat approached sufficiently near to enable the breaker and grass rope to be veered to the sorely pressed life-boat. Directly the towing-hawser was made fast the former forged ahead; but hardly had she taken the strain when the means of communication parted like packthread, one portion narrowly missing being caught by the propeller. Had it done so the steamboat would have been helpless in the trough of the sea.
It was now an even more difficult matter to take the boat in tow again, for the breaker and grass rope had been taken on the Sunderbund's boat. Meanwhile both craft had drifted farther to leeward, and closer to the worst of the broken water. Clearly Webb had to act now or the opportunity would be gone for ever.
Frequently buried in green seas, from which she shook herself clear like an enormous dog, the steam cutter staggered to windward of the boat and, turning, approached within casting distance.
Dexterously communication was re-established, and once more the steamboat began to take the strain of the towing-hawser. At one instant stretched as taut as a steel bar, at another dipping limply in the sea, the stout rope stood the strain, and gradually the life-boat began to gather way. If progress was slow on the outward run, the journey back to the ship was even more so. Yet the Portchester Castle was unable to approach another cable's length without an almost certain risk of grounding.
"The old ship's chucking overboard some more oil, sir," reported the coxswain. "Maybe we'll get some benefit, although I'll allow it'll drift too far to wind'ard."
"It's spreading," shouted Webb in reply. "That will do the trick."
Twenty minutes later the steamboat ran alongside her parent. The hawser was transferred to the latter's steam-capstan, and the cutter was deftly hoisted inboard.