To haul up to the anchor was a slow process and laborious, but it was done cheerily, for the hearts of the men were aglow with satisfaction. Three lives saved! It was what Blunt styled a grand haul. Not many, indeed: but was not one that of a loved comrade, and was not another that of “the sweetest lass in all the town,” in spite of young Guy’s difference of opinion?
It was grey dawn when the lifeboat returned to port under sail, with a small flag flying in token of success, and it would have done your heart good, reader, to have seen the faces of the crowds that lined the pier, and heard the ringing cheers that greeted the gallant rescuers as they brought the rescued safe to land.
Six hours after that Captain Bolter sat at the bedside of Jo Grain.
“You’ve been hard hit, Jo, I fear,” he said kindly.
“Yes, rather hard, but the doctor says I’ll be all right in a week or two; and it’s little I’ll care about it, Captain, if you’ll only agree to forgive and forget.”
The Captain seized Jo’s hand and tried to speak, but could not. After an abortive effort he turned away with a grunt and left the room.
Six months after that, Joseph Grain, transformed into a coast-guardsman, led “the sweetest lass in all the town” to the village church, and young Guy, still objecting to the title, was groom’s-man.
“Jo,” said Captain Bolter that day, at parting, “I’ve forgiven you long ago, but I can’t forget; for you said the truth that time. I was an old grampus, or a fool, if you like, and I’m not much better now. However, good-bye, dear boy, and take care of her, for there’s not another like her in all England.”
“Except one,” murmured young Guy, as he squeezed his friend’s hand and quietly attached an old slipper to their cab as they drove away. Thereafter he swaggered off to a certain familiar cottage to talk over the wedding with one whom he considered the sweetest lass in all the town.