The buoy was hauled back, and another was saved—one of the sailors, this time. He reported that there were in all twenty-five hands on the ship, exclusive of the captain.
“He’ll come last, of course,” he said, simply.
“Of course,” agreed Abe Haskill. “The captain allers does that. Once more, boys!”
Again was a rescue effected, the moving picture cameras registering faithfully everything that went on. The work had to be done quickly now, for the vessel was fast breaking up.
“Two more left!” cried the chief life saver. “Jack up that cable, boys; she’s sagging. I guess the old ship is working farther in. Jack her up!”
By means of pulleys attached to the main rope it was made tauter. Then came a heavy sag on it.
“What’s that?” asked one of the life savers.
“It’s two of ’em—two of ’em, clinging to the buoy!” cried Blake, who was watching through a glass. “I guess the ship must be going to pieces too fast to allow for another trip. You’ve got to save two at once.”
“And we can do it!” cried the captain. “All together, now, boys! But they’re going to get wet!”
By reason of the added weight the rope was sagging badly, and the men clinging to the buoy could be seen half in and half out of the water.