Excerpt: 'A thick night and no mistake, Dan. It's as black as the face of a Nassau pilot. We ought to be nearing the coal wharf by now. Of course they wouldn't have sense enough to leave a light on it to give us our bearings. Captain Jim Wetherly was growling through the window of the darkened wheel-house to his deck-hand, young Dan Frazier, as the oceangoing tug Resolute felt her way up the harbor of Pensacola. She had towed a dismasted bark into port after a long and stubborn tussle with wind and sea, and her master was in haste to fill the empty bunkers and drive her home to Key West, five hundred miles across the blue Gulf. The mate and several of the crew had gone ashore for the evening, the fat and grizzled chief[Pg 4] engineer was loafing on the deck below, and Captain Wetherly was somewhat consoled to have a sympathetic listener in his youngest deck-hand. This Dan Frazier was his nephew, not long out of the Key West High School, and trying his hand at seafaring in the Resolute as the first chance which had offered to ease his mother's task of caring for him. In the presence of any of the vessel's company, discipline was observed between the two with a respectful aye, aye, sir, or no, sir, on Dan's part, but now when they were alone on deck Dan felt free to reply: It's strange water to me, Uncle Jim. I shouldn't wonder if the old Resolute felt timid about poking around a crowded harbor on a thick night. What she likes best is plenty of sea-room with a wreck piled hard and fast on the Florida Reef and a fighting chance to pull it off. I wish I could have been on board when you were taking hold of that big Italian steamer last spring. The men say they thought the Resolute was going to yank the engines clean out of her before you let go on the last haul that dragged the wreck clear of the Reef. Is it true that Bill[Pg 5] McKnight clamped the safety-valve down and said it was up to Providence to see that his boilers didn't blow up?'