They came on steadily, the steersman standing at his post and handling the long oar as though it was a feather's weight. His huge figure soon identified him. It was Captain John Dunn, who, like Ira Ball, had left the sea, and he had left his right forearm, too, because of some accident somewhere on the other side of the globe. But with the steel hook screwed to its stump and the good hand remaining to him, Captain Dunn handled that steering oar with more skill than most other men with two good hands could have done. How the four at the oars pulled the heavy boat! Tunis sought to identify them as well. He saw John-Ed Williams--in a place at last where he was forced to keep up his end, though he was notably a lazy man. Ben Brewster had the oar directly behind John-Ed. The third figure Tunis could not identify--not at once. The man at the bow oar was Marvin Pike, who pulled a splendid stroke. So did that unknown oarsman. They were all bravely tugging at the heavy oars. Tunis had faith in them. Zebedee suddenly plunged across the pitching deck and reached the rail where Tunis stood. Discipline--at least seagoing etiquette--had been somewhat in abeyance aboard the _Seamew_ during the last few hours. Zeb caught the skipper by the arm. "See her?" he bawled into the ear of the surprised Tunis. "What's that?" "See her hair? It's a girl! As I'm a living sinner, it's a girl! Pulling number three oar, Captain Latham! Did you ever?" Clinging to a stay, the captain of the _Seamew_ flung himself far over the rail as the schooner chanced to roll. He could look down into the approaching lifeboat. He saw the loosened, dark locks of the girl who was pulling at number three oar. On the very heels of Zeb's words the captain was confident of the girl's identity. "Sheila!" His voice could not have reached her ear because of the rush and roar of the wind and sea, but, as though in answer to his shout, the girl glanced back and up, over her shoulder. For a moment Tunis got a flash of the face he so dearly loved. What a woman she was! She lacked no more in courage than she did in beauty and sweetness of disposition. What other girl along all this coast--even one born of the Cape strain--would have dared take an oar in that lifeboat in face of such dire peril as this? "Good Lord, Cap'n Latham!" shrieked Zeb. "That's Miss Bostwick!" Tunis straightened up, squared his shoulders, and looked at Zebedee proudly. He wanted Zeb to know--he wanted the whole world to know, if he could spread the news abroad--that the girl pulling number three oar was the girl he loved, and was going to marry! * * * * * An hour later the _Seamew_, her topsails drawing full and her lower canvas properly handled, drove on like the bird she was through the channel into the cove, trailing the old lifeboat behind her. The skipper had taken the wheel himself, but that "tug to sta'bbo'd" did not disturb his equanimity as it sometimes did Horry's.