"What can have happened, what can have happened?" he kept muttering "The change of tack must have done it. That’s it!—the change of tack" Now that he had found an explanation, he could face the issue. They manned the pumps at once—this was before the day of steam pumps aboard coal barges. But the leak gained steadily on them, in spite of all they could do. It was a race with time now—for both of them. Captain Bradley gave a bitter laugh; he and the _Viking_ were throwing up the sponge together. The breeze had freshened, but the old ship was pitifully slow. He swore to himself as he clung to the weather rail, watching the water drag past. He was thinking of the speed that she would have shown under her former canvas; twelve to fifteen knots, she would easily have reeled off with sky-sails set in this smashing breeze. While he watched, the swift stabbing went on in his chest, as if some invisible enemy were taking full and cruel satisfaction. Was he not to be permitted to bring his old ship to port? Was this final insignificant success to be denied him? The winking eye of Navesink came in sight just before dawn. At eight o’clock, they were abreast the Highland lightship. The old barge was very low in the water, but she still retained a margin of buoyancy. With Captain Bradley, conditions for the last hour had been a little better. He had kept the deck since the pumps began, refusing to give up to a physical encumbrance; and the pain had eased away, as if temporarily succumbing to his invincible will. Soon after passing the lightship, a towboat approached them, hauling up alongside. "Barge ahoy! What barge is that?" "_Viking_. Broke adrift from a tow—three days ago—off Montauk Point" "The devil you say! I’ll send a hawser right aboard" "You’d better. Snatch us—up the bay—quick as you can. Five feet of water—in the hold" "Perhaps I’d better beach you somewhere inside the Hook?" "No—tow us in. I guess—the leak will stop—in quiet water" Whether it was judgment or prescience, Captain Bradley’s surmise proved correct. As they towed up the bay, pumping continually, the water in the hold at first remained for a while at a constant level, then began slowly to fall, enough to show that they were gaining on the leak. Below the Narrows, the tugboat dropped astern, ranging up on the _Viking’s_ quarter. "Well, old man, where have you decided to go?" Captain Bradley stood in the starboard alley-way, one hand grasping the rail, the other the corner of the after house. It was the only way that he could hold himself upright. In the last half hour the pain had returned with fresh violence. Since its return, he had known what he would have to do. The ship was all right now; but, for him, little time remained. "Anchor us—at Tompkinsville—close inshore. Send word to my office. Get some men—my crew are—worn out. Bring off a doctor—for God’s sake!..." The strained voice broke in a shrill cry.