“She’s pretty low, and all iced up. She looks bad, but you never can tell. What the devil’s that big tug doin’, and not helpin’ her? But no matter what he’s doin’--drop alongside there--not too close. One roll of her atop of us and our names’d be in the papers with the fine notices they give a man when he’s dead. ‘An honor to their profession,’ ‘Too bad they died,’ and so on--all fine enough, but not healthy. Hi, aboard the bark--what’s wrong?” Again was the story told--of the harrowing drift past the edge of the shoals and their present plight. “Take us off,” it was then--“for God’s sake, take us off!” “We got no boat,” said Crump to that. “But wait, there’s that tug,” and motioning to the wheel, “Jog over to the tug.” “Those men want to be taken off,” hailed Crump when he was close to the towboat. “Well?” said Dixey. “And you got two boats?” “Yes, and one already smashed trying to put it over.” “Well, there’s the other.” “And smash that, too?” “Well, I’ll be damned--and a frost-bitten crew alongside--and their vessel sinkin’ under their feet. How about the busted one towin’ astern?” “It’s full of water.” “Well, cast her adrift, and we’ll stand by and pick her up and patch her up and take the bark’s crew off with her.” “Lord, you’re the devil and all, ain’t you?” “Now, _what_ d’y’ think o’ that?” was all the disgusted Crump could splutter by way of condemnation. He turned to his crew. “All there’s to it is, we’ll have to get ’em off ourselves.” “But how’ll we get ’em off, Skipper, without a boat?” “I know.” Sam Leary bobbed up. “Let ’em run a line from their masthead to a block in our riggin’ and again a block on deck with a couple of men standin’ by to haul and slack, and let them come down the incline like’s if ’twas a breeches buoy.” “Sam,” said Crump admiringly, “but you’re sure a wizard.” Crump hailed to the bark and explained. The bark’s crew did their share. One after the other they came whizzing down to the deck of the fisherman. Her captain, the last to leave, set fire to the few dry places below before he went. An excruciating half-hour it was, but at last the crew of the bark were on the deck of the schooner. “And now go below,” commanded Crump, “and turn into the dry blankets. In five minutes the cook’ll have you full of hot coffee.” Seeing the strangers on the way to comparative comfort, he returned to active business. Crump was ever a man of action. “Who’s in for salvage?” “Me!” said eighteen members. “And who’ll be the prize crew?” “Me!” said nineteen, this count including the cook, just then running aft with more hot coffee. The nineteen, and doubtless Crump also, had visions of an adventure that might yet net them a good trip. “And now to get aboard. How’ll we get a man aboard her for a starter? How about that, Sam? We can’t go up the way they came down, can we? Get your head to working.”