coal. Everybody on board was working with dogged determination. They were going to get the Wilmington into Halifax if it was humanly possible.
Nobly the crippled freighter responded. She forged through the waves faster and faster until she was making seven and a half knots an hour. With satisfaction Mr. Harris sent the good news to the commander of the Iroquois. But even at seven and a half knots an hour, the Wilmington had a long journey before her, and all the while the sea was rising.
Dawn came, but no sun followed to light the day. The mists and fogs increased. The wind bellowed with ever-increasing force. The seas mounted upward, higher and higher, and with every passing hour the storm grew worse. Viciously the waves crashed against the broken nose of the Wilmington. Slower rode the crippled steamer, and slower still. Both wind and seas held her back, and her commander dared not drive her with the full power of his engines. The strain on the bulkhead was terrific.
Noon came. The Wilmington was still moving, though slowly. The Iroquois had found the Hiawatha and taken her in tow. The Oneida was rushing out from Boston to help. At regular intervals the Wilmington’s wireless man sent some message to the Iroquois. By early after-