"Starboard your oar!" shouted Dan, at the same time digging his own oar
deep down on the port side and pulling upon it with all the magnificent
strength of his arms until it bent like a reed. There was just time to
avert the direct impact, not to escape altogether.
It was a glancing blow just above the water line; it punched a great,
jagged hole and gouged out the paint clear to the stern. Dan drew a
long breath and murmured in a half-sick voice, "They might as well kill
a man as scare him to death," while Captain Barney's face made a gray
streak in the darkness.
The _Quinn_ was now past the point of Sandy Hook and was skirting the
shore. The muffled beat of the breakers could be heard through the
gloom, which was riven every second by the great, swinging search-light
in the Navesink. Not a mile ahead was the bar; and the masthead light
of the _Kentigern_ could be seen, twinkling like a planet.
In twenty minutes the dark hull of the _Kentigern_ came looming out of
the night. A hail shot from the _Quinn_, and a faint reply came back.
Dark figures could now be seen, outlined by the cabin lights in the
forward section of the tramp.
"Hello, what tug is that?" sounded from the bridge. "Is that you,
Captain Barney?"
"No, it's the _Quinn_, Cap'n Jim Skelly.
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