Give me a hatchet. Now, lads, two of you stand at the
chain cables; knock out the shackles the moment I cut the hawser.
Watkins, you take the helm and let her head pay off till the
jib fills. Jack, you lend a hand to the other two, and get up the
trysail again as soon as we are free."
In a moment all were at their stations. The helm was put on the
yacht, and she payed off on the opposite tack to that on which she
had before been sailing. As soon as the jib filled, Tom gave two
vigorous blows with his hatchet on the hawser, and, as he lifted
his hand for a third, it parted. Then came the sharp rattle of the
chains as they ran round the hawser holes. The trysail was hoisted
and sheeted home, and the Seabird was under way again. Tom, as
before, conned the ship from the bow. Several times she was in close
proximity to the rocks, but each time she avoided them. A shout
of gladness rose from all on deck as she passed the last patch of
white water. Then she tacked and bore away for Jersey.
Tom had now time to go down below and look after his passengers.
They consisted of the captain and two sailors--the sole survivors
of those who had been on deck when the vessel struck--three male
passengers, and six engineers and stokers.
"I have not had time to shake you by the hand before, Tom," Grantham
said, as Tom Virtue entered; "and I thought you would not want me
on deck at present.
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