I suppose there is always something inspiring about a rescue at sea, or on the water.
After all, the bravery of the lifeboat man is the true bravery,—expended to save life, not to destroy it.
Certainly they told for months after of how the rescue boat came out to the Mariposa Belle.
I suppose that when they put her in the water the lifeboat touched it for the first time since the old Macdonald Government placed her on Lake Wissanotti.
Anyway, the water poured in at every seam. But not for a moment,—even with two miles of water between them and the steamer,—did the rowers pause for that.
By the time they were half-way there the water was almost up to the thwarts, but they drove her on. Panting and exhausted (for mind you, if you haven't been in a fool boat like that for years, rowing takes it out of you), the rowers stuck to their task. They threw the ballast over and chucked into the water the heavy cork jackets and lifebelts that encumbered their movements. There was no thought of turning back. They were nearer to the steamer than the shore.
"Hang to it, boys," called the crowd from the steamer's deck, and hang they did.
They were almost exhausted when they got them; men leaning from the steamer threw them ropes and one by one every man was hauled aboard just as the lifeboat sank under their feet.
Saved! by Heaven, saved, by one of the smartest pieces of rescue work ever seen on the lake.
There's no use describing it; you need to see rescue work of this kind by lifeboats to understand it."