"Keep going, Charley, one time more," I said.
And as we laid out on the next tack to wind-ward, I bent a piece of
line to a small grappling hook I had seen lying in the bail-hole.
The end of the line I made fast to the ring-bolt in the bow, and
with the hook out of sight I waited for the next opportunity to use
it. Once more they made their leeward pull down the port side of
the Lancashire Queen, and once more we churned down after them
before the wind. Nearer and nearer we drew, and I was making
believe to reach for them as before. The stern of the skiff was
not six feet away, and they were laughing at me derisively as they
ducked under the ship's stern. At that instant I suddenly arose
and threw the grappling iron. It caught fairly and squarely on the
rail of the skiff, which was jerked backward out of safety as the
rope tautened and the salmon boat ploughed on.
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