For a full hour the ship remained hove-to with her head to seaward, during which an early breakfast was served to the occupants of the cuddy; then, upon the appearance of the tug coming out over the bar, the _Concordia_ wore round and headed inshore, the light sails were rapidly clewed up or hauled down, the towline was got ready for passing, and in a moment everything was bustle and apparent confusion upon the ship's decks, barefooted seamen rushing hither and thither, flinging down coils of rope on deck, casting off halyards and sheets, and dragging vociferously upon clew-garnets, clewlines, downhauls, and the other complicated paraphernalia of a ship's furniture, with the captain shouting orders from the poop, and the mate in charge of a gang of men on the forecastle getting the anchor a-cockbill ready for letting go, and preparing for the arrival of the tug alongside. Then up came the little steamer, rolling and pitching heavily upon the long ground swell, sweeping round in a long curve that brought her all but alongside the wallowing ship; a brief interchange of hails between her bridge and the _Concordia's_ poop, the sudden snaking out of a whirling heaving-line from the forecastle of the latter, followed by the thin but tremendously strong steel towing hawser; and as the few remaining sheets of the ship's canvas shrivelled in to the masts and yards the tug passed ahead, the towrope rose dripping out of the water, tautened to the semblance of a metal rod, and away went the two craft, heading for the middle of the space of water that divided the two breakwaters. Half an hour later the _Concordia_ came to an anchor in the spacious but shallow inner harbour opposite the railway station, and the long voyage was at an end.