The ship’s lights were burning brightly to guide the daring rescuers back to safety. “They are pulling for their lives,” said the executive officer, somewhat anxiously, and then came the low response of Captain De Long: “They have need to.” Nearer and nearer came the leaping light in the boat, and the storm was keeping pace with it, perhaps outracing it, for so many believed. Once it struck the ship before the lifeboat reached it, and the rescuers would share the fate of those they had risked their lives to rescue. CHAPTER XLIII. A DEBT OF GRATITUDE. The suspense on board of the cruiser was terrible, the more so because perfect discipline kept it under, and it could find no vent in words. Men spoke in muffled tones, cadets hoped and feared, and all awaited the result--life or death to the bold rescuers. No one yet knew whether the safety of his crew had caused the gallant cadet officer at the helm of the lifeboat to put back for the ship before the storm struck them, or he had returned because he had accomplished his perilous errand. The ship plunged and keeled as she lay to, and the eyes of all were alternately turned toward the inky-black tempest roaring down upon them, and the lifeboat struggling so manfully to reach the lee of the vessel and safety. “Ahoy, my brave fellows! pull for your lives!” It was the voice of the gallant De Long thus sent over the black, tempestuous waters. The brave commander could stand the strain of suspense no longer--he must speak. Then came a faint cheer from the struggling oarsmen, and a roar like mighty winds went up from the ship’s deck in response. “Pull! Pull for your lives, brave lads!” shouted Captain De Long. And back over the waters came the answer: “Ay, ay, sir, we’ll make it!” But would they? Hushed were all for a moment more, and then the leaping light shot up under the lee of the cruiser, the men aboard cheered wildly, while those in the boat were drawn on board by ready and willing hands. The next instant the lifeboat was hung to its davits and firmly lashed, while from it was taken a limp form and carried below to the care of the ship’s surgeon. The storm was upon them now, and the men sprang to their stations, yet loud and ringing were the cheers in honor of the gallant rescuers, for the lifeboat had picked up those for whom they had risked their lives. “Mr. Merrill, the captain wishes to see you aft, sir.” It was an hour after the breaking of the storm, and the good ship was driving along before the gale, and directly on her course. Stars were seen now in the black cloud-rifts, and all knew that the hardest work was over. Mark Merrill had not gone below to change his clothes. “What’s the use in this sea?” he had said, and he reported at his station. Now he was sent for to come aft, and he promptly reported, saluting, though capless.