feverishly to keep up steam and keep the pumps at work. Even though the water gained, it gained but slowly.
Darkness came. The cutter was still far away. There were few rockets left to fire, but every half hour one was shot skyward. A great flare was made on deck, but with waves and spray dashing over the ship it was difficult to keep the beacon burning. All the while the wireless men kept in touch with the Iroquois. At times Henry relieved him.
“We are listing very badly,” he called. “We cannot stay afloat much longer. How long will it take you to reach us?”
Afar off, the watchers on the Wilmington could now discern the beam from the searchlight of the Iroquois, like a great pencil of light reaching from sea to sky. Slowly it grew more distinct, but, oh, so slowly. The efforts to keep the beacon burning were redoubled. Once more Henry sent flashing a cry for help: “We are sinking fast.”
Meantime, with some planks from one of the after holds, the men had made life rafts. These were placed close to the stern, ready to be pitched into the sea at a second’s warning. A single boat remained—the one that had brought the crew from the Iroquois. All the others had been lost, some in the collision, while others had been torn