All these years he had shrunk from an unknown,
an unexperienced, peril. Was it that Cap'n Abe had been frightened by
a bogey, after all?
He opened his eyes, pulling rhythmically with the oar--never missing a
stroke. His gaze rested on the face of that old sea-dog, Cap'n Jim
Trainor. The fierce light of determination dwelt there. The skipper
meant to get to the wrecked schooner. He had no doubt of accomplishing
this, and Cap'n Abe caught fire of courage from the skipper's
transfigured countenance.
As for Lawford Tapp, no member of Cap'n Trainor's crew pulled a better
oar than he. With the bow ash he drove on like a young giant. Fear
did not enter into _his_ emotions.
There was nobody to notice the pallor of the storekeeper's visage.
Every man's attention was centered on his own oar, while the skipper
gazed ahead at the wave-beaten schooner grounded hard and fast upon the
reef.
There was no lull in the gale. Indeed, it seemed as though the
strength of the wind steadily rose. The lifeboat only crept from the
shore on its course to Gull Rocks.
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