The first pull on the stranded steamer had been halted by the tragedy of Jeremiah Pringle's heroic death. As soon as possible Captain Jim Wetherly hastened back from Key West to the Reef and Dan rejoined his shipmates in the Resolute. They were very loth to leave the widow and the son of the wrecking-master who, with all his faults, had died as he had lived, unflinching in the face of the perils of the sea. But Duty sounded a trumpet-call to save the Kenilworth, and with flags at half-mast the tireless tugs again hovered about her under the vigilant direction of Captain Wetherly.

Meanwhile the wreckers had been toiling in night and day shifts, taking out more cargo. When at length the tugs were summoned for another titanic tussle, every man felt that the supreme moment was at hand. It was now or never. Captain Wetherly voiced the feelings of all with passionate energy:

"She has got to go. That's all there is to it."

The tugs had been pulling a scant hour when Captain Jim felt the keel of the Kenilworth grind on the coral bottom. It was no more than a slight shock which made the ship tremble as if she felt a thrill of returning life and freedom. Then she hung fast for a long time, moved again, and perceptibly righted herself. Another interval of futile effort, and at last the steamer slid forward with a dull, harsh roar as her broken keel ripped through the coral and ploughed slowly down the sloping shelf into the deep water on the landward side of the Reef.

The frantic tugs behaved as if they could not believe the Kenilworth was actually afloat. They refused to stop pulling with might and main until their prize was trailing after them down the fairway of the Hawk Channel. Their whistles bellowed jubilation while Captain Jim signalled the Resolute:

"Keep her going for Key West."

The panting tugs led the sluggish, battered steamer out through the nearest gap in the Reef, and she rolled solemnly in the swells of the open sea where she belonged. Captain Bruce was pacing the bridge of his ship, nervous, absorbed in his own thoughts, and oblivious of the general rejoicing. Above the stern of the Kenilworth the British ensign still flew at half-mast and served to recall a tragedy which Captain Bruce wanted to forget. His partnership with Jerry Pringle had been ill-fated from the start. In a flash of splendid manliness Pringle had given his life to save the man who had smashed the evil partnership. And was he, Malcolm Bruce, ship-master, willing to let this Jim Wetherly stand accused of the crime planned in Pensacola harbor? No, he had not come to such depths of degradation as this. He had fought it out with himself and he was ready to take the consequences. Dan Frazier came on board the Kenilworth for orders when the tugs slackened way to shift their hawsers, and Captain Bruce beckoned him to a corner of the bridge where Captain Wetherly was standing. The haggard ship-master placed his hand on the lad's shoulder as he began to speak:

"I want Dan to hear what I have to say, Captain Wetherly. He came aboard my ship when she went on the Reef and refused to believe the worst of me, though he knew it all the time. I abandoned the ship and left him on board instead of sticking by her as I honestly intended to do. But I see now that my will had been undermined. There was a rotten spot in my heart."

"You didn't mean to abandon me, sir," spoke up Dan. "I never held that against you."

"I am glad you have a decent word for me," replied Captain Bruce with the shadow of a smile. "The long and short of it is that I am going to make a clean breast of it to the underwriters' agent, Mr. Prentice, when we get to Key West. It seems to be the only way to clear you, Captain Wetherly. Of course I never dreamed that circumstances could be twisted about to fetch you into this miserable business. But Pringle has gone, and I am not quite enough of a cur to dodge my share of the punishment. I make no defence, but my record was fairly clean until—well, you know when. My owners are shrewd, tricky, close-fisted men who got me into their way of doing business a little at a time. My ideas of right and wrong were warped by degrees. Men don't go bad all at once, Dan. Don't ever forget that. A ship's timbers don't rot overnight and let her founder in the gale that tests her strength. The first speck of rot is almost too small to see, but it grows. At last these people had me fit for their work, and three voyages ago they put it at me that there would be no great sorrow if the Kenilworth met disaster. I should have quit them on the spot, but I took the temptation to sea with me. And in the next voyage I ran afoul of Jeremiah Pringle in Pensacola. He found me willing to listen. Five years ago I would have kicked him out of my cabin. You know the rest of it. Ten thousand dollars was the price if he could have the vessel to wreck. And my owners were ready to give me a bigger, newer ship if I lost her for the insurance. But you spoiled all that, and I am glad you did. I seem to have been a weak-kneed kind of a rascal."

"Bully for you," cried Captain Jim. "Shake hands on it. Dan here was sure you were sorry you ever got into this mess, the first time he met you. But this is mighty serious business for you, Captain Bruce. The underwriters will make an example of you, as sure as guns. Are you going back to England to face the music?"

"It means that I am in disgrace and will command no more ships, I suppose," was the reply. "And I suppose it means a dose of prison, but I don't mean to veer from the course I have charted. There isn't any other way out of it. I would rather be dead along with Jerry Pringle than to go on hating myself and living in a hell of my own making."

"I reckon you are right," said Captain Jim after a long silence. "It pays to go straight, and every man must work out his own salvation."

"Anyhow, you would feel a heap worse if your ship had gone to pieces," Dan ventured to suggest in his effort to find a ray of sunshine in the cloud.

"Right you are, my lad. It has been a great fight, and a man couldn't work alongside this uncle of yours very long without wanting to live straight and clean. You helped save the Kenilworth, Dan. I haven't forgotten that."

"But you can't square me with old man Prentice," sadly returned Dan. "I think it's great of you to stand by Captain Jim, but it doesn't help my case. I am still left high and dry as a liar."

"Things will straighten themselves out now. Don't worry," smiled Captain Bruce. "Mr. Prentice will be easier to handle after he knows the facts in my case."

"How about salvage? Don't I come in on that?" anxiously asked Dan who was not old enough to appreciate the sacrifice involved in Captain Bruce's confession.

"I expect to be paid my towing and wrecking bill to cover my time and expenses," said Captain Jim. "But I don't want any more salvage than that. I won't take blood-money, not even from the pockets of those scoundrelly owners of yours, Captain Bruce. They won't be able to collect a cent of insurance after you make your statement, and the repairs will cost them a small fortune. The underwriters will make it hot enough for them. Trust Prentice for that."

Dan raised his voice in most lugubrious accents:

"But won't there be any salvage for me after all I went through in this beastly ship? Why, I have been expecting to get rich from it, to go North to school and college with Bart, and buy a bigger yacht, and give mother a spree in New York and—and all I get is to be called a liar by old man Prentice."

Dan's disappointment was so keen that Captain Jim hastened to console him. "I kind of overlooked your case. Sure enough, I've robbed you of your rights, haven't I? I suppose if you could go North to school, you and your mother would feel that you had your share of salvage, wouldn't you?"

"Yes, indeed. That would clear up the account in great shape," cried Dan. "But where is the money coming from? You can't charge it up against the Kenilworth's owners, can you?"

"Well, if those Bahama niggers had blown up the steamer, the owners' bills might be a good deal bigger," smiled his uncle. "Just let your salvage claim rest for a day or so. I promise you it will be worked out somehow."

Early in the morning the Kenilworth moved slowly to an anchorage in the inner harbor of Key West, at last in a friendly haven. Her escort of victorious tugs whistled a glad alarm as they cast loose and steamed toward their several wharves. Dan was on board the Resolute, and as she neared the shore he saw his mother hastening down to the landing place.

"You will be all the salvage she wants out of this job," said Captain Jim as Dan waved his cap for an answering signal to the fluttering handkerchief. A little later mother and son walked homeward together and she learned of Captain Bruce's manly decision to make atonement. Her tender heart was moved with pity for his plight and she spoke up impulsively:

"I knew there was a great deal of good in him, Dan. And think how forlorn and unhappy he must feel. He needs friends. Ask him up to see us. I am very sorry for him."

"All right, mother. He has shown himself to be a pretty good sort of a man, after all. How is Bart Pringle? Is he all broken up? He's been on my mind most of the time since I went back to the Reef."

"It was a dreadful shock to Mary Pringle and her boy," replied Mrs. Frazier. "But they will be happy again after a while. Jerry Pringle was a hard man, Dan, and he never really knew his own family. He was the richest man in Key West and of course they have no worries about money. They fairly worship his memory because he died a hero's death. But it is as if they were admiring some noble character in a book, not a real, live man who was a part of their daily lives. They never knew him well."

"Perhaps it was all for the best," sighed Dan. "Bart will never know anything else about his father and he has a memory to live up to that is a better inheritance than all the money that was left behind. Oh, but it was worth while fighting hard to keep the truth from Bart and his mother."

In the afternoon Dan went back to the Resolute to invite the chief engineer to supper. Mr. McKnight announced as he staggered the boy with an affectionate blow between the shoulders:

"Old Prentice was aboard looking for you not an hour ago, and said he'd come back if he didn't find you at home. I told him that if he had a notion of calling you a liar some more, I was your proxy and he could say it to me. I began to roll up my sleeves and he plumb near backed himself overboard."

"I wish he had," returned Dan. "What on earth does he want now? The Kenilworth affair is all cleared up."

"Well, he was dying to see you, Dan. Better wait aboard. The old icicle will wander back after a while. I hear we are going to tow the Kenilworth to Jacksonville to be docked for repairs. Do you know when?"

"Captain Jim said in about a month," replied Dan. "As soon as she can be patched up to stand the voyage. But maybe I won't be with you, then. It depends on whether I win my salvage case."

"Too much sun. Gone a bit queer in the head," murmured Mr. McKnight. "We surrendered all claim to salvage—you know that. It's an outrage, too. When I was wreckin' on the coast of— Hello, here comes old Prentice now."

The underwriters' agent was advancing with almost undignified haste, and as he came down the gang-plank he extended his hand to Dan and exclaimed in most friendly fashion:

"Delighted to find you, Mr. Frazier. You will be good enough to sit down aft with me for a few minutes? I wish to show you a document which has just reached me."

Brushing past the glowering chief engineer, Mr. Prentice fumbled in his breast pocket and brought forth a large, official-looking envelope. His manner was really sheepish as he hemmed and hawed, flourished the envelope, and said:

"I wish to offer you an apology, Dan, which you are manly enough to accept, I am sure. I find myself in—er—a rather painful position. The fact of the matter is that I have been guilty of an error of judgment. I have in my hands a letter sent to me in care of the British consul in Key West. Attached to it is an affidavit which you may examine at your leisure. To make a long story short, these documents come from Nassau. While investigating the Kenilworth disaster, it occurred to me to make some inquiries concerning one Hurley, known as "Black Sam," who had possession of the steamer when you were rescued from her. Your story of preventing an explosion seemed improbable to me, partly because I could find no proof, and also because I held certain other suspicions, now removed, I am glad to say. I made an effort to locate this Hurley person. There was not one chance in a thousand that he would confirm the truth of your story, if found. But, by extraordinary good luck, he was recently arrested for cracking the skull of one of his crew. And while in jail he was visited by my agent in Nassau. You will be surprised to learn that he readily consented to sign an affidavit describing his attempt to blow up the Kenilworth, and your part in the episode. The fellow has a rude sense of humor, it appears, and had come to regard it as a good deal of a joke on him."

"It is great news for me," exclaimed Dan. "I hated to have you think what you did."

"I have something more to say," resumed Mr. Prentice with a smile. "Captain Bruce and Captain Wetherly came to see me to-day. It was a strange interview, as you may perhaps guess. Captain Bruce confessed that he had tried to lose his ship on the Reef. My suspicions were wrong from start to finish, and I have apologized to Captain Wetherly. In fact, I seem to be a walking apology. But the chapter is closed. The steamer is to be made fit for sea by her owners, without a penny of cost to the underwriters, and her master will go to England to face the consequences of his confession. The owners will also have to settle for damages to cargo. Under the circumstances, I am of the opinion that the underwriters are deeply indebted to you for preventing the total loss of the Kenilworth. They can well afford to do the handsome thing by you, my boy, not as salvage, but as a gift, a reward for a heroic deed. Such gifts have been bestowed on several ship-masters within my recollection. Captain Wetherly informs me that you are ambitious to get an education. I pledge you my personal word that you can count upon receiving a sum of several thousand dollars to assist that praiseworthy ambition. I expect to go to England shortly, and will look after the matter myself."

While Dan struggled between gratitude and amazement to find words to fit the occasion, Mr. Prentice patted his shoulder with fatherly affection and added:

"I know the story of your loyalty to your friend, young Barton Pringle. It seems right and proper that you should go away to school together, without a shadow between you any longer."

Mr. Prentice left the Nassau documents with Dan and took his departure, leaving the lad to stammer the wonderful tale to Bill McKnight who found an outlet for his own emotion by announcing:

"I'm going to hustle right ashore, Dan, and hire the Key West brass band to serenade old Prentice to-night. I've got money in the bank, boy, and I'm going to turn it loose."

While this rash declaration was being argued, Captain Wetherly came aboard and added his congratulations to the tumultuous celebration. When Mr. McKnight became quieter for lack of breath, Dan spoke up with a sudden shock of unhappy recollection:

"But how about Captain Bruce, Uncle Jim? It doesn't seem fair for him to be left all alone to go back to England and be in disgrace among his own people. Why, if he stands by his guns, he will be sent to prison."

"I had a long talk with him an hour ago," replied Captain Wetherly. "He can't be budged from his resolution to take all the blame for the disaster. And of course his owners will try to shift it all onto him and they may be able to clear themselves in court. I can't help admiring his pluck. But he may come back here later, Dan. I have just landed a big Government contract for towing and dredging work, to last for several years. And I need more help with the business I have now. I asked Captain Bruce to come back to Key West when he gets clear of his troubles in England. I told him that he would be with friends here, with folks who believed in him. I would trust him as a partner. He will never go wrong again."

"What did he say?" asked Dan and Bill McKnight in the same breath.

"He was considerably touched. Said he would think it over, and thanked me, and went off to tell Prentice about it. He will come back to work with me some day, I am pretty sure."

A few weeks later Dan Frazier and Barton Pringle were waving their farewells to Key West from the deck of a mail steamer, northward bound to enter a preparatory school. Their mothers were standing together on the wharf and behind them towered the rugged figure of Captain Jim Wetherly. As the steamer drew away and the last "good-byes" were shouted across the water, Bart sighed and murmured to his friend:

"Father ought to be there to see me off. I can't realize it yet, Dan. But I must try to live up to the example he set for me. I am so glad he and Captain Jim became good friends. It was the Kenilworth that brought them together. I reckon they were the same breed of men, only it took them a long time to find it out."

Dan looked across the harbor at the rusty Kenilworth which was almost ready to be towed away to a dry-dock. The sight of her thrilled him with memories of the hardships, dangers, and tragedy of the weeks of hard-fought battle on the Reef. It came over him that while he had won his salvage and his fondest dreams were coming true, perhaps Barton Pringle had won even richer and more enduring salvage in the bright memory of his father's last deed, a memory and an inspiration unmarred by the knowledge of anything less worthy.

"I am proud of Uncle Jim," said Dan at length. "And you can always be proud of your father, Bart."

Presently the steamer passed the Resolute which lay at her wharf ready for sea. The chief engineer hurried into the wheel-house and pulled the whistle cord for all he was worth. The tug roared a hoarse farewell, and Dan gazed at her and the burly figure of Bill McKnight with glad affection in his eyes. They stood for something worth while to the boy who was leaving his shipmates to venture into strange waters and chart a new career. He had toiled among men who were fitly called "the Resolutes," and the lessons of duty he had learned afloat would not be soon forgotten ashore. Dan was thinking aloud as he said while he waved his cap at the powerful, seagoing tug in which he had played his part as a humble deck-hand:

"I don't know what this preparatory school up north is going to be like, but I reckon if I can play the game so the Resolute won't be ashamed of me I'll come out all right."