He would have attempted to scale the steel sides
of the vessel themselves, if only to escape from that little boat,
tailing astern of the _Quinn_ in the heart of the darkness, rooting,
twisting, threatening to dive under the water.
"What are you goin' to do after I get aboard?" asked Captain Barney,
rubbing his hands as though the victory were already won. "I declare,
I never thought of you! You can't row back."
Dan raised his head angrily and started to utter a sneering reply, when
the first good swell caught the boat--a great lazy, greasy fellow. The
_Quinn_ went up and then down, and after her shot the rowboat, like a
young colt frisking at the end of her tether, then careening down the
incline on her side as though to ram the stern of the tug ahead, which,
fortunately, was climbing another hill.
What the rowboat had been through before was child's play to this, and
Dan's face grew very stern. Reaching down with one hand, he seized the
other oar and shoved it along to Captain Barney. "Put that down on the
port side. Hang on for your life and keep her steady!" he cried.
Then he gave his attention to his side of the boat while Captain Barney
struggled in the bow. It was a fight that would have thrilled the soul
of whoever could have seen it. But that is always the way in the
bravest, most hopeless fights--no one ever sees them.
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