It's
clearing up nicely and we're only forty miles from Portsmouth. Keep your
lips stiff, fellows, and we'll be eating breakfast ashore!"
The dingey pulled off again, narrowly escaping capsizing more than once,
and ten minutes afterwards the _Catspaw_ was once more wallowing along
in the wake of the cruisers. Supper, with bacon and potatoes and lots of
bread, perked the crew up mightily, and when the stars began to peep
through the scudding clouds and the sea stopped tormenting the poor old
_Catspaw_ they got quite cheerful. That second night was an easy one
for all hands. The weather cleared entirely by two o'clock and the sea
calmed to almost normal conditions. The _Catspaw_ strained along at the
ends of the cables at about three miles an hour until she got close
enough to the shore to feel the tide. After that she went more slowly.
At early dawn--and it was a real dawn this time, with sunlight on the
water and a golden glow in the eastern sky--the Isles of Shoals lay six
miles to the southwest and the blue shore line was beckoning them. At a
little before eleven that forenoon the _Catspaw_ passed Portsmouth Light
and half an hour later, having been given over to the care of a tug, was
lying snugly against a wharf.
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