He struggled to fight his way back, but he was almost paralyzed with cold and worn out and exhausted. He feared he could never make it. Suddenly he found himself in a grip of iron. The executive officer had swum after him. They regained the raft. Desperately now Henry clung to the planks, while his superior officer held fast to him with his legs, all the while clinging to the planks with his hands. The small boat came up and the two were lifted aboard.
What happened after that Henry hardly knew, but presently he found himself in the engine-room of the cutter. He was being stripped and rubbed. Some one was giving him hot coffee to drink.
When he was able to get about the ship, he inquired for the others who had been in the sea. The lifeboat, so clumsily manned, had capsized, and one of the English sailors had been drowned. Every other man who had gone to the Wilmington had been rescued. He learned that the Oneida had found the Hiawatha and that both boats were safely on their way to Boston.
Two days later the Iroquois lay peacefully at her anchor off St. George. Rollin came to the wireless shack looking for Henry, who had entirely recovered from his hard experience.
“The captain wants to see you, Mr. Harper,” he said,