"All right, Baldy." Harty turned to his working mate. "So long Pete, see
you later."

"So long, son, and have a care on that open deck."

Harty climbed the iron ladder to the deck, shouldered his way through
the wind-pressed door and onto the deck, and started aft.

It was cold. Under his thin suit of dungaree Harty was rolling in sweat.
The winter wind whipped him like a cat-o'-nine-tails. He crept aft,
coiled his heaving line and waited in the stern for the word. She was
jumping so that to hold his feet on her open, icy deck aft, he was
compelled to hook one hand to the towing bitts.

"Only time for one try, so don't let nothing go wrong. An' watch out for
any of those big fellows comin' aboard, Bud," came Baldwin's last
warning.


V

On Light-ship 67, drifting broad onto the breakers, all hands were
perched high in her rigging, safe above any stray seas; all but Nelson
and Bowen, who were hanging on to her weather rail forward.

Bowen was the first to realize what the figure on the after end of the
tug meant to them. "Heave for here!" he shouted, and Nelson, also awake
to the situation, held up one of the torches for a mark.