The dock's headlight and the
intermittent glow of the tug teetered, swung out of line, crossed each
other, like dancing fires. In a sort of panic, the two strained at the
solid wheel. A huger wave came roaring by, flung the enormous square
prow high in air. As it fell off with a shock, Madden felt a little
quiver pass over the lumbering pontoons. The dock ceased taking the
upheaved water with her slow, constant, aggressive movement.
The cable had parted!
Madden wondered dully what sort of cataclysm had occurred on the little
tug at that tremendous strain.
Both men still hung to the hand-grips on the useless wheel as the dock
rose and dropped, thundered and groaned. Now and then from the
storm-swept wave tops Madden could catch the glimmer of the
_Vulcan's_ light. This slipped farther and farther into the void,
heaving night, then he saw it no more.
A sense of vast desolation swept over the American, and he was still
staring into the black pandemonium ahead when Deschaillon, Hogan and a
third man came struggling toward him.
"You may go back!" he yelled wearily above the uproar. "Go back--there's
nothing to do. The cable's broke--the _Vulcan_ is gone."
CHAPTER IV
AN INTERRUPTED MEETING
Convinced that there was nothing else to be done on the big dock, Madden
went to his cabin, threw himself on the bunk, and there tumbled and
tossed through the stormy night, sleeping brokenly and dreaming of the
missing _Vulcan_.
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