"I'll never take the tug out in such a storm as this," he said doggedly. "But think, man! There are twenty men or more up there on those coal barges, whose lives simply _must_ be saved. And there is a hundred thousand dollars' worth of coal there that may go to the bottom any minute." "I can't help that. I tell you the tug couldn't live a minute in such a storm." "In other words," answered Duncan with measureless contempt in his tone, "you are a miserable coward, a white-livered wretch, whose life wouldn't be worth saving if it were in danger. Go back to your bed! Go to sleep! or _go to hell_, damn you, for the cowardly whelp that you are!" Then turning to the engineer and the two deck hands, he asked hoarsely: "Will you men stand to your duty while I go to the wheel?" "We're with you while she floats, cap'n," said the engineer. "I always did hate a coward." "Have you got steam enough?" "Yes, a hundred and fifty pounds pressure to the square inch, and she'll need it all." "All right. Cast her off," commanded Duncan as he stepped to his post in the pilot house. He knew, of course, that he was taking terrible risks. Having no pilot's license he had no legal right to be at the wheel. Should disaster overtake the tug he would be personally liable for the insurance forfeited by his act in taking her out in contravention of the judgment of her captain and pilot. Worse still, should any life be lost in the adventure, Guilford Duncan would be held to answer for manslaughter. Well-educated lawyer that he was, he knew all these facts. He perfectly understood the fearful responsibilities he was taking upon himself. Yet he faltered not nor failed. There was no moment's hesitation in his mind. There were lives in peril up there in the bend, and a vast property exposed to destruction. There was a chance that by taking these risks he might save both. All that is best in the soul-impulse of the soldier was his inspiration. He would do his duty--though that duty was in no wise his except as he had made it his--and let consequences look out for themselves. This young fellow had often sniffed the breath of battle in his nostrils. He had many times done and dared things that only a brave and self-regardless man could have done and dared. To-night the old enthusiasm of war came back to his soul, but with a difference. He had often fought to destroy. He was facing danger now with saving and the rescue of imperiled human lives for his purpose. As the tug quitted her moorings and began her voyage up the river, Duncan caught a glimpse of Captain Hallam's form hurrying toward the landing. Almost immediately the tug began to plunge in perilous fashion, thrusting her head under the waves, and shipping water enough to dampen the fires and diminish steam pressure in a way that threatened failure to the enterprise. Failure in the work of rescue was the only thing that Guilford Duncan feared.