“It’ll never be said o’ Tom Grattan that he forsack his ship so long as a man wos willin’ to stick by her.”
Haco took Tom by the hand as he went aft and shook it.
“Any more comin’?” he said, glancing at the faces of the men that stared down upon him.
There was no reply.
“You can’t expect men to volunteer to go to the bottom,” said the captain of the steamer. “You’re mad, both of you. Think better of it.”
“Back your ship off, sir!” said Haco in a deep stern voice.
The order was given to back off, and the vessels were soon clear. Haco put his sloop at once on the larboard tack, and looking over the side observed that the bottom of the yawning gap was thus raised nearly three feet out of the water.
“Tom,” said he, resuming his place at the wheel, “go and nail a bit of canvas over that hole. You’ll find materials down below. We’ll have to steer into port on this tack, ’cause if we try to go on the other, she’ll sink like a stone. I only hope the wind’ll hold as it is. Look alive now!”
In a few minutes the little craft was away and the captain of the steamer, seeing that she did not sink, continued his course.
Next day Haco Barepoles steered the “Coal-Coffin” triumphantly into the port of London, with a hole in her side big enough, if Tom Grattan’s report is to be believed, “to admit of a punt bein’ row’d d’rect from the sea into the hold!”