"Give it to her, bullies—there's a hundred apiece if we get them," I said, and swung my body with the stroke of the oars. This had an effect upon the men. A hundred dollars was more than three months' pay.
They put their weight upon the ash, and the boat fairly lifted under the strain. The sweat began to pour down their faces, and the wind died away, until the swell ran oily and smooth.
"Give it to her," I cried again, as we gained a little.
The two men at the bow oar swung mightily upon it. There was a sharp crack. The bow oar snapped off at the rowlock, and the boat eased up her speed, leaving two good men idle.
"Great snakes!" howled Smith, and the express messenger looked at me in despair.
"We can't catch her now," he muttered.
I knew it was true. We were now dropping back, and I kept on only because I felt that it would not do to give up. I scanned the sea for signs of a boat.
There were some fishing to the northward, and it was our only chance. I swung her around toward them.
"We've got to try for one—maybe there's one with a good motor in her," I said. In a quarter of an hour we were up to one boat, and saw she was not fit. We swept past without slowing up.
"Any boat about here with a strong motor?" I asked, as we came close.