“It blew itself out in a hour, wind fall off to maybe twenty-five, and we go on our way, beatin’ into dot west wind, with a lookout in de crow’s nest, and it’s about middle of de day and we got Fort Jefferson in sight when he calls out, ‘Wreck ashore! Four points de starboard bow! Range, ten mile!’ Cop’in Cy bears off and goes up Southeast Channel. Presently, we all see her, on de rocks way up on de reef at de north side of de Tortugas, way north of Hospital Key. Dere’s seven eye-londs in de Tortugas, and Hospital one of de smallest. So dere she is, rocked head-on, and from de looks of her list, bilged, too. She was gettin’ pounded by some rough seas, and Cop’in Cy is afraid she gwan to break up and wants to get to her before she does. Lot easier, salvagin’ a ship dot still above water, and den dere’s de salvage fee you get for savin’ de ship and de’ riggin, and den dere’s de extra fee you get for goin’ out in heavy weather and for showin’ what de judges in de admiralty courts call enterprise. Even if we don’t get dem gold candlesticks, we was lookin’ at a pile of money. Albury, de engineer, gets his gear ready—de salvage anchors, de steam winch, and cables and pumps. De idea is, we gwan to patch her if she’s bilged, den pump her dry, den pull her off stern first on de next high tide. We ain’t a mile from dot ship when de lookout spots, away off to east’ard, two lifeboats, all full of folks, and dey pullin’ hard, but de Lord Jehovah only knows where dey t’ink dey goin’ out dere. Maybe for de lighthouse station on Loggerhead Key, maybe for de big fort on Garden Key, but dey rowin’ de wrong way!”