"But it's a good thing to get good and wet at first," reflected Baldwin,
"then you won't be worryin' any more about it." It was not only wet, but
cold. But naturally, too, when you're a-wrecking to sea of a cold
winter's night you just got to expect a few little discomforts.

The ancient _Whist_ rolled down, down, down, and jumped up, up, up; but
mostly she went down, and while she was down the swooping seas piled
over her. However, all right so far; an hour now since she had left the
breakwater, and there she was still afloat. No telling always about
those wheezy little wrecks of tugs. Baldwin looked out and back toward
her stern, almost with pride. Going since the Civil War, she'd been, and
still afloat. Must have been some little original virtues in her planks
that pleased old Neptune, and so he passed her up. Maybe she'd never
been caught in the open seas on a night like this; well, maybe not, but
you betcher she wasn't afraid of it.

Straight out from the breakwater Baldwin kept her going. Slow, heavy,
pounding work; and now two hours gone, and no light-ship yet. He swung
her about, a ticklish feat, and paralleled the beach to the north, and
just off the beach, after an hour of northing, he spied the distress
signals--two, three, yes, and four big torches.

The countless white-plumed riders were charging by, but straight for the
drifting lights, straight down the line of roaring troopers, Baldwin
paraded his little _Whist_; and when he was near enough, "We'll heave
you a line!" he hailed. "And in God's name get it, for there mayn't be a
chance for a second one afore the breakers 'll get you."

He placed his mouth to the engine-room tube "Ho-o, Buddie. On deck with
your line now."