A BROKEN HAWSER
pond, and when the work of the Mary Ellen could be carried on without excitement; but there were also times when nerves of iron were needed. Picking up casual sailing craft which needed a tow was child's play compared with the Mary Ellen's task of taking a ship under its sheltering wing on a dirty night. The worse the weather was, the more likely the tug was to be needed outside the entrance to the harbor, and the skipper took a grim pleasure in riding out a gale when other craft found it prudent to take shelter.
One wild night, when Dave had been on the tug bout a month, even the skipper was thinking of getting under the shelter of the Bluff, for the Mary Ellen was tossing about so heavily that her crew could barely keep their feet, and more than one hissing comber had deluged the deck. Rain was falling in sheets, and it was the darkest hour of the night. Dave was on duty with Grummitt in the little wheel-house. The tug was right in the track of all incoming vessels, but few passed,
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