Blow the Man Down - A Romance of the Coast

And on that basis the rank amateurs of Razee proceeded with all the grit

that was in them.

The men of Hue and Cry had plenty of muscle and little wit. They asked

no questions, they did not look forward gioomily to doubtful prospects.

The same philosophy, or lack of it, that had always made life full of

merry hope when their stomachs were filled, taking no thought of the

morrow, animated them now. Fate had given Mayo and his associate an

ideal crew for that parlous job. It was not a question of union hours

and stated wages; they worked all night just as cheerily as they worked

all day.

An epic of the sea was lived there on Razee Reef during the weeks that

followed.

The task which was wrought out would make a story in itself, far beyond

the confines of such a narrative as this must be.

Bitter toil of many days often proved to be a sad mistake, for the men

who wrought there had more courage in endeavor than good understanding

of methods.

Then, after disappointment, hope revived, for further effort avoided the

mistakes that had been so costly.

The brunt of the toil, the duty of being pioneer, fell on Mayo.

He donned a diving-suit and descended into the riven bowels of the wreck

and cleared the way for the others.

On deck they built sections of bulkhead, and he went down and groped in

the murky water, and spiked the braces and set those sections and calked

the spaces between bulkhead and hull.

There were storms that menaced their lighter and drove the little

schooner to sea in a welter of tempest.

There were calms that cheered them with promise of spring.

The schooner was the errand-boy that brought supplies and coal from the

main. But the men who went ashore refused to gossip on the water-front,

and the occasional craft that hove to in the vicinity of Razee were not

allowed to land inquisitive persons on the wreck.

After many weeks the bulkheads were set and the pumps were started.

There were three crews for these pumps, and their clanking never ceased,

day or night. There was less water in the fore part; her bow was propped

high on the ledges. The progress here was encouraging.

Aft, there were disasters. Three times the bulkhead crumpled under the

tremendous pressure of the sea, as soon as the pumps had relieved the

opposing pressure within the hull. Mayo, haggard, unkempt, unshorn, thin

with his vigils, stayed underwater in his diving-dress until he became

the wreck of a man. But at last they built a transverse section that

promised to hold. The pumps began to make gains on the water. As

the flood within was lowered and they could get at the bulkhead more

effectively from the inside, they kept adding to it and strengthening

it.