Silently, the old man touched his cap, and giving me one look, he went
to the bows of his boat. The Belle Helène, lashed by the storm,
rolled and pulled at her cable, rose, fell thuddingly. And at last,
came a giant swell that almost submerged us. I caught Helena to the
cabin-top to keep her drier from it, and the two boys also sprang to a
point of safety. Mrs. Daniver, less agile, was caught by Peterson and
Williams and held to the rail, wetted thoroughly. And by some freak of
the wind, at that instant came fully the roar of the surf. We of the
Belle Helène seemed very small.
I looked now at Peterson. He raised his little megaphone, which hung
at his belt, and shouted loud and clear, as though we could not have
heard him at this distance of ten feet. "Get ready to lower away!"
Williams and the deck-hand sprang to the falls. "Get the women in the
boat, you, Williams," called the skipper, "and go in with them to
steady her when she floats. Take his place there, Mr. Harry. Lively
now!" And how we got the two women into the swinging boat I hardly
knew.
The old skipper cast one eye ahead as a big wave rolled astern. "Now!"
he shouted. "Lower away, there!"
The boat dropped into the cup of a sea, rose level with the rail the
next instant, and tossed perilously. I saw the two women huddled in
the bottom of her, their eyes covered, saw Williams climbing over them
and easing her at the bowline. Then, as we seized the next instant of
the rhythm, and hauled her alongside, Peterson made a leap and went
aboard her, and Williams scrambled back, once more, across the two
huddled forms. I saw him wrench at the engine crank, and heard the
spitting chug of the little motor. They fell off in the seaway,
Peterson holding her with an oar as he could till the screws caught.
Then I saw her answer the helm and they staggered off, passing out of
the beam of our search-light, so that it seemed to me I had said
good-by to Helena forever.
We who remained had no davits to aid us, and must launch by hand. For
a moment I stood and made my plans. First, I called to Willy, our
deck-hand, who had the dingey now astern, some fashion. "Are you
ready?" I demanded: but the next moment I heard his call astern and
knew that, monkey-like, he had got her over and was aboard her
somehow.
"Now, boys," said I, "come here and shake hands with Black Bart." They
came, their serious eyes turned up to me. And never has deeper emotion
seized me than as I felt their young hands in mine. We said nothing.