rigging, they had crouched together while the men from the Iroquois were trying to reach them. But as the tide ran low, those in the rigging had climbed down and mounted to the bridge and superstructure, seeking warmth, for the piercing winds had well-nigh frozen them as they clung to the rattling stays. Apparently not a man had been swept from the Capitol City. Almost the full crew was there to work the ship, and Captain Hardwick was glad, indeed, that there was no such shortage of hands on the Capitol City as existed on the Iroquois. There would be work for many hands when the time was ripe for the effort he had in mind.
At last the Iroquois came within reach of her stranded sister. Now a line could easily be fired across the helpless vessel. Ready was the faking-box with the shot-line faked neatly on the tall spindles within it, ready to run out smoothly as it traveled through the air on its momentous journey. The little brass gun on the after-rail of the Iroquois was uncovered, a charge was inserted in it, its Camden projectile, with shot-line bent fast, projected from the muzzle of the little gun, and all was ready for the effort. The captain himself sighted the little gun, for the gunner, alas! had been in the Iroquois’ surfboat. A moment the commander waited, until the cutter rode on an even keel.
