I had watched the accident, and soon Captain and crew were on deck. As I looked into the pale, tense features of the Captain as he quickly gave his orders, I thought he was going on a hopeless errand. But no! Two figures appeared on the bottom of the capsized boat, and a cheer went forth from every throat. They would be saved yet. As if to add intensity to the scene, the wind rose in fitful gusts and a huge bank of clouds rolled up in the sky. Something had gone wrong with the gearing or tackle of the second boat, which was seldom, if ever, used; and I fairly trembled with anxiety as the valuable minutes passed, and looked at the boys clinging to the bottom of the boat as it was tossed on a huge wave. But, in Heaven's name! what were the boys doing? What did it mean? Were they mad? By everything that was sane, they were still holding on to the line.
[Illustration: OUT OF THE GATHERING DARKNESS CAME A YAWL MANNED BY TWO MEN.]
"Cut away the tackle!" at last roared the Captain, maddened by the delay, and noting the actions of the boys. It was done, and with a rush the boat went down almost stern first, and half filled with water. I felt that the fate of the boys was now sealed. With a water-logged boat in that sea it would be impossible to cover the four hundred yards to where the boys were still clinging tenaciously to the line. Jimmie was standing up holding the line with both hands, in the position almost of "the anchor" in a tug-of-war, and the ship's boy, extended on his stomach along and astride the boat, held the line with his right hand, while his left grasped the keel. Shark-fishing may be exciting, but that the excitement was so great that one should court certain death was hard to understand. I could hardly believe the evidence of my eyes, and I screamed at the top of my voice, "Let go! Let go!" in the vain hope that I might be heard. It was only a few minutes, but it seemed hours, as the crew alongside bailed out the water. It would be too late. The positions of the two lads showed they were almost exhausted. They couldn't hold out much longer. If they let go there was yet time, but they seemed to hold on as if their lives depended upon it. The end couldn't be far off. The eyes of every one on deck were fixed on the boys, when off to the left we saw, coming out of the gathering darkness, a yawl manned by two men. It seemed almost ghostlike. But with split-sail bellowing out before the wind, she raced on. The men bailing in the boat relinquished their efforts as they watched the yawl steer straight for the capsized boat. As they approached we saw one man move forward to the bow. There was some weapon in his hand. And as the boys apparently gave one last despairing tug at the line, the thrasher shark in its agony gave a leap out of the water, but before its somersault was completed a harpoon quivered in its side. Almost at the same time the sail was lowered, the yawl was run alongside the capsized boat, and men and boys helped to manage the dying struggles of the shark. Instead of making immediately for the _Hecuba_, the Cubans, for such we could see they were, seemed to be questioning the lads as they anxiously pointed to the schooner. In a few minutes one of the men threw his cap in the air, and a cry that sounded like "Cuba libre!" was wafted on the breeze. It was too heavy a sea to tow the capsized boat, so, hoisting sail, they ran under the stern of the _Hecuba_.