The voice that came quavering across the sullen waves, as if blanketed by the leaden skies, held the men of the Williwaw in its spell. They clung to the rail, staring with perplexed eyes and parted lips until aroused to action by Moran’s shout: “Stand by to lower away a boat there, you men. Mr. Long, go over and learn what’s up.�
The boat splashed into the water, and down the steel side of the Williwaw went the men to man it. Her screw thrust the sea again to hold her off at a safe distance, for the swells still surged and lifted forward; but the voice still carried on:
“I fear no woe, with Thee at hand to bless;
Ills have no weight, and tears no bitterness.
Where is Death’s sting; where, grave, thy victory?
I triumph still, if Thou abide with me.�
Sturdily pulled, as if eager to reach the black and battered hull of the half-wrecked I’ll Try, the boat bobbed upward and downward as it was rowed across the intervening space. It came alongside, where, standing, swaying, some of its rowers clutched at hand-holds, and Long, young, powerful, leaped for strake and rail. He threw a heavy boot over inboard and landed on both feet. For an instant he paused, bending forward as if doubting sight. He saw a man with white hair, stained red here and there, and with a reddened handkerchief bound awry over his head and falling over one eye. Streaks of red ran down over the disordered white beard. He saw the rope with which the man had bound himself to the wheel, and the halyard-end that had at last worked free and lay idly upon his lap. He saw the bandaged arm, the sprawling feet in sea-boots, the free wheel, and constantly he heard that same droning song of faith.
Long rushed over and laid his hand on the broad, bent shoulder, and said:
“Josh! Captain Josh! Skipper! Don’t you know me—Long—of the Williwaw?â€� But the closed eye did not open or look up, and the monotonous reiteration of song went on.
The mate ran to the side and shouted: “Come aboard here, you men. This looks bad. I’m going to need help, I think.�
And then, as they clambered inward, he ran to the closed companionway, lifted the hatch, recoiled from the foul air, and disregarding the steep steps, dropped nimbly below. A whimpering sound, as it issued from the lips of a pain-exhausted, terrified boy stabbed his ears, and with it mingled a babbling noise that could come from nothing else than human delirium.
For an instant his eyes probed the gloom until they accustomed themselves to the change from broad daylight. In one of the bunks lay a figure that was still and quiet. In another lay the man who moaned and babbled. In another lay the boy who now lifted himself to an elbow and said: “I couldn’t help it, sir. Skipper, he told me to stay here and do my best. I did, sir, and—and—the old un has never spoke a word, and the second hand has taken to talkin’ like that all the time; and my foot, sir, my foot—oh, it do hurt something awful, and I can’t walk no more, I can’t! I tried, sir, I did, and—â€�
Then the voice broke in a long wail of boyish grief. The strain had been too much for even that obdurate, steadfast youthful bravery.