"All right," Captain Westfield agreed. "Pass us your lines and we'll get busy."
In a few moments, the five launches were fast to the schooner and with engines throbbing were slowly dragging the helpless hulk towards her destination.
The fishing launches were all good boats of their kind, but they had not been intended for such heavy work and the strain on their light engines was terrific.
The two boys watched the "Dixie's" straining engine with the anxious care of a mother for her child as they dragged their big tow slowly ahead.
"I guess it will last out the trip," Charley said, "but I wouldn't like to do much of this kind of work with it. It's like overloading a willing horse."
At the end of the fifth mile, the launch ahead of them dropped out of the struggle with a broken piston ring.
"Go on, don't stop for me!" its owner yelled with more unselfishness than they had expected. "I'll manage to limp her back to Clearwater. So long, and good luck to you. You will have to hit it up for all you are worth now or you won't make it. There's a squall making up in the north-west. If it strikes you before you get in behind Anchote Key, you will have to cut loose from the schooner."
Captain Westfield had, for some time, been watching the small black cloud making up in the north-west.
"It's going to be a close shave to make Tarpon before that thing hits us," he remarked to Charley. "We pulled slow enough when there were five of us and now with only four we are not making over two miles an hour. It's a wonder the engines stand the additional strain. I keep expecting them to break down."