“The chief mate answered that question. The _Shearwater_ had a new, nice, sweet, ten-inch manila. It might do. “‘We’ll run in and have a look-see, anyway,’ said Harry in something of his old manner. “So we ran in and a ticklish job it was. But presently we were within a quarter of a mile of the disabled steamship and the wireless got busy. The _Western Pacific_ wanted to be towed out of danger--a matter of forty miles. Transferring anybody was out of the question, for the sea was terrific. No boat could live in it. Both captains were pretty anxious. Finally Owen ran the _Shearwater_ right up under the lee of the _Western Pacific_ and threw his searchlight on her. She was all right, sea anchor out and riding fairly easily. But when Harry Owen laid down his binoculars he was a different man. I know now what he saw. He made no further demur about attempting a tow and we spent an hour passing our new line, fixing chafing gear and so on. “It was none of my business, you understand. “We picked up our tow and started out. Within fifteen minutes I comprehended, though not a word was said, that we had tried an impossibility. The _Shearwater_ was too old; she wasn’t up to towing a six-thousand tonner against sea and gale. Her wooden topsides were rotten. We could barely steer her. Then word came to the bridge that the hawser was pulling the after deck to bits. Harry Owen listened and then stared out over the sea, running with a brisk, ugly weight before the wind. He went aft and I joined him. The _Shearwater_ was so built that the only place to take the line to was a small windlass directly in front of the steering gear, consequently the great straining hawser was slowly, but surely, tearing out the entire structure that held the leaping rudderhead and the quadrants. “‘You’ve got to let her go, sir,’ said the mate, showing an anxious face. I shall never forget the queer pallor of his countenance under the dim light of the lantern on the deckhouse wall. “Owen looked at him fixedly a moment. Then he said, just as I am speaking now, ‘Take the hawser around the after deckhouse, mister.’ “The mate gaped at him. But Owen’s eyes never wavered. The order was obeyed, though it took an hour, during which sea after sea came aboard the old _Shearwater_ and the _Western Pacific_ began frantic speech by wireless. However, the job was done. “From now on the _Shearwater_ was, you understand, almost helpless. It was cruel work and, at last, Harry himself took the wheel. Ten-inch lines, no matter how good they are, can’t stand up under such a strain as was inevitably put on ours. But Owen deliberately sacrificed his own vessel to save the _Western Pacific_.” “I heard he went mad,” I murmured. Gorham lighted another pipe.