Sam’s practiced eye surveyed the broken ship. There was no possibility of towing her out intact. The bow was a mass of tangled wreckage, while the stern section appeared to be torn clean away. But the cargo segment amidships appeared to be sound and its end bulkheads undamaged. Sam decided to attach the hawser to it directly.
He and his helpers crawled out over the convex surface of its top where the rosy flames danced six inches high on the iron of the hull. Dragging their torch behind them, they made their way to the spot where the line was to be made fast.
Sam feared for their eyes, for those they could not tape. As a precaution, they took turns holding the torch, a few minutes each, while the relief pair nestled together, each sheltering his eyes against his mate’s body. It was awkwa
